A Different Kind Of Love
by Carrie86
Summary: Set at the end of season 4, start of season 5 - the story of Niamh, how it should have been! Well, some dramatic things still happen, but at least Niamh has some support from her friend Assumpta.
1. Chapter 1

_I found this story much more difficult to write than Flying Through the Storm. I fear there's a bit more talking and less action in it, plus the ending and plot twists are bound to be more controversial than Flying Through the Storm, so I hope you still like it! I had particular difficulty figuring out how to end it…which is why it just kind of stops…if you can think of a better ending, let me know!_

_This story is a bit different to Flying Through the Storm, in that it is not all my own creation. In chapters 4 to 10, it takes great swathes of dialogue from the original scripts of the episodes The Final Frontier and Two Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. These were written by Robert Jones and Ted Gannon respectively, and a damn good job they did. I give them full credit for the original storyline and for those wonderful dialogues. I used them in my story to set the scene and to show that most of the things that happened in those episodes still happened in my story, because I think that it was a very good story line (if lacking in build-up) and I see no reason to change it. All I wanted to do was to write in two extra characters, Peter and Assumpta, because we all know that they should have been there. _

Niamh's face changed in an instant. The wide-eyed anxiety, the fear and loneliness were swept away by a bright, and slightly overdone, grin as she saw her friends step through the doors into the arrivals lounge. She rushed towards them, nearly knocking Assumpta off her feet.

"Whoah, take it easy there, Niamh! You only saw me two weeks ago!"

"Sorry." The grin was still there, but it was awkward now, and there were tears in her eyes. "Hi, Peter." She gave him a more subdued hug, and he could feel the tension in her shoulders as she gripped him tightly.

"Are you OK, Niamh?" Peter asked as she pulled away.

The overdone grin came back. "Yeah! Yeah, tell me, how was the honeymoon? I am so happy to see you, and I am dying to know _everything_." She turned her back to Peter and looked knowingly at Assumpta.

"Well, all in good time, Niamh, but I told you, you didn't have to pick us up, aren't they charging you a fortune for parking out there?"

"Oh, and that's the thanks I get." The smile fell instantly.

"No, I just mean -"

"I wanted to come and get you, OK, is there something wrong with that?"

"No, of course not – Niamh!"

Niamh tried to bring the smile back, but her eyes wouldn't do it this time. "Sorry," she said.

"Thankyou for coming and getting us," said Assumpta gently, giving her friend a hug.

"You're welcome," said Niamh abashedly. "And you're really…you're really back this time?"

"Yes." Assumpta nodded with finality.

"Oh thank God. I've been going crazy without you. Seriously, there's no-one else who's sane in Ballyk."

"Ha! What have they been doing now?"

"Well we nearly had another wedding – nearly…"

"What? Who?"

"Siobhan and Brendan."

"WHAT?"

"They pulled out at the last minute, changed their minds. This is _after_ I'd organised a reception for them, mind you."

"But why would they get married anyway, they're not…"

"Tax or…pension or something. I thought it was more, but…"

Assumpta's face had twisted into an amused grimace. "Oh!" She began to laugh. "That is hilarious!"

"It's not funny."

"Oh. It is. Brendan getting married for tax purposes – ha!"

Peter re-appeared behind them dragging two suitcases and looking rather the worse for wear for it, especially seeing as he also had a large backpack on his back and a pillow and a newspaper under his arm.

"Oh, honey, why didn't you get a baggage trolley for those?" said Assumpta.

Peter looked around at the baggage trolleys, which were only ten metres away. "Oh," he said. "Didn't think of that."

...

Peter slept with his head cocked awkwardly on the pillow, which was balanced on the top of the back seat in Niamh's small car. His left shoulder was jammed up against the window and his knees were sticking in somewhat syncopated directions in the gap between the front seats. The two women in the front barely noticed he was there. They were deep in conversation.

"Come on, Assumpta, I told you every detail of my honeymoon!"

"No you didn't, you just complained -"

"What?"

"Well, you know, you kept asking my advice about…stuff."

"Oh, 'stuff', yeah. That's the stuff I want to know about."

"Niamh!"

"Come on, I told you everything."

"Yeah, because you were asking for my advice! I don't need your advice!"

"Oh, thanks."

"What? I don't! And I don't kiss and tell!"

"Lucky you." Niamh glanced in the rear view mirror. "Ah, would you look at him."

"What?"

"Your husband asleep in the back there."

Assumpta turned around. "Aww! He looks so cute!"

"You sound like you're talking about a puppy dog."

"He is so gorgeous, look at him!"

"Lucky you."

...

The car stopped outside Fitzgerald's with a jerk that sent Peter's pillow tumbling off its perch, and his head cracking painfully onto the back of the seat.

"Oh, if only that car had headrests, Peter!" said Brendan jovially as he yanked the car door open.

Peter grunted, blinked and looked around.

Assumpta was being pulled out her door by an excitable Orla, who was saying, "How was it? How was it?" many times over.

"Good. Really good," was the only reply she got.

"We've got the pub all ready for you," said Niamh as she pushed open the door. "We've cleaned the upstairs so it's spick and span, and Ambrose and I are back in the gard house of course, and I've done up the guest bedrooms too if you want to open them up again, and -"

"Would you like a pint?" said Orla.

"Err, no thanks - tea would be nice though, but -"

"I'd like a pint!" said Peter, breaking into a grin.

"Right you are!" Orla rushed behind the bar.

"Here, I'll take these up for you," said Ambrose, picking up the suitcases which Brendan had deposited on a table.

"Oh, they're heavy, Ambrose, let me help." Peter tried to take one.

"No no no, sit down!" Ambrose smiled, but his eyes weren't in it. He hurried towards the stairs.

"I hear you almost got married as a tax dodge," said Assumpta, taking a seat next to Siobhan.

"Oh, you heard about that, did you? No prizes if I guess from whom."

Assumpta couldn't hide her amusement.

"Well don't worry, we didn't, so you're still the bride of Ballyk!"

"Oh, hey, it's no skin off my nose."

"It wasn't about tax, it was pensions and life insurance. We thought it would've been easier on Aisling, but…well, that's not what marriage is about, is it?"

"Ehm…" Assumpta looked at Peter, who was cooing over Aisling. "No." She grinned.

"So how is it, then?"

"Good." Assumpta nodded vehemently, still grinning. "Really good. Ooh, thanks, Orla." She accepted her mug of tea and took a sip.

"Usual, Siobhan?" asked Orla.

"Sure, thanks."

"Me too!" announced Brendan, arriving next to them.

"Assumpta, can I show you something upstairs?"

"Ehm, not now, Niamh, I'm kind of enjoying sitting drinking tea at the moment."

"OK, Peter, then."

"Umm…" Peter looked surprised as Niamh took Aisling from him and plonked her into Brendan's arms. She began to cry.

"Oh, Niamh!" protested Brendan.

Ignoring him, Niamh grabbed Peter's arm and dragged him towards the stairs.

"Where's Kieran, anyway?" he asked her.

"Dad's got him this afternoon."

"Oh, OK. What do you want to show me?"

They disappeared up the stairs.

"Brendan, will you take her outside please?" said Siobhan over Aisling's cries. "She's a bit loud in here."

Brendan looked at her in incredulity. "Me?"

"Yes, you!"

Assumpta snorted. She was starting to see what Niamh meant about everyone in Ballyk being insane.

The cries faded as Brendan stepped through the door.

"She wasn't half upset when we decided not to get married," said Siobhan.

"Who, Aisling?"

"No, Niamh. She was really upset. You should have a chat to her."

"What do you mean?"

"Well we didn't mind, we turned the reception into just a regular party and had great fun, but she'd made us a wedding cake and everything – I didn't ask her to, mind, I told her not to tell anyone, that we didn't want any fuss, but… She did all that, it was like she was living vicariously through it, and then, when we dashed that…"

"She disappeared for a whole day last week, too," said Orla. "Nobody knows where to. To the sales in Dublin, Ambrose said, but he didn't know. She just upped and left. You got landed with Kieran, didn't you, Siobhan?"

"Yeah, I felt really bad about that – I had to work, and..."

"It's OK, I hear he had a whale of a time with Brian."

Assumpta frowned. "Niamh left Kieran?"

"Hey Peter, you're neglecting your pint!" Orla called loudly as Peter and Niamh appeared on the stairs.

"Oh, sorry Orla, I got, err…waylaid."

"I think I might join you!" Orla took the glass over to Peter on the other side of the bar and began pouring another.

Siobhan leaned towards Assumpta and said in a low voice, "When she was upset about the wedding, we were talking about marriage, and…she said, 'I don't know what it means anymore.'"

Assumpta looked at Siobhan in alarm.

"Maybe you should have a chat to her. See if she's OK."

...

Assumpta came into the bedroom to find Peter getting into the bed in checked blue pyjamas. "Oh," she giggled. "Cute."

"What?"

"I haven't seen those before."

"My mother gave them to me."

"Oh! Right. I see."

"What are you wearing, anyway?"

"These are my pyjamas!"

"That's an old shirt that's way too big for you and a pair of boxer shorts!"

"Yeah. So?"

He grinned and snuggled up against her as she slipped into the bed. "I won't make fun of your pyjamas if you don't make fun of mine."

"Well, I don't see how you possibly could make fun of my pyjamas - I mean, _my_ pyjamas aren't…"

"Aren't what?"

She looked at the checks and scrunched up her nose. "I don't really know what the word is…"

"Are you saying that you don't like my pyjamas?"

"Maybe I like you better out of them."

He met her piercing gaze, and leaned in to kiss her. His lips were strong and sweet, but she pulled away. "Hang on," she said. "I want to ask you something."

"Yeah? OK." He pulled back and patiently waited for her to speak. She smiled. She always had his undivided attention.

"Have you noticed anything…strange," she said, "about Niamh and Ambrose?"

"Strange?"

"Anything different. I'm not saying I have, I just want to know if you have."

Peter shrugged. "Niamh's very excitable…but that's Niamh. Ambrose is…quiet, but that's Ambrose."

"Yeah."

"I guess they might be…more than usual. Actually, yeah, I did notice that they were a bit strange at our wedding; like at the reception, for example, they didn't dance together. Niamh was dancing, but not Ambrose. I asked Ambrose if everything was alright and he said it was fine …"

"Yeah. I didn't even notice. I mean, she was…emotional, but she just kept saying, 'I always cry at weddings.'" Assumpta frowned. "Does she always cry at weddings?"

"Do you think something's wrong?"

"Siobhan does." Assumpta sighed. "She'd know more than me, I guess. I haven't been here."

"I did think something was amiss with Niamh this afternoon. You know, when she took me upstairs to show me stuff?"

"Oh yeah, what did she show you?"

"Just some things they'd moved, it wasn't a big deal. I wondered why she was fussing about it."

"Fussing over that instead of something else, maybe?"

"Yeah, maybe. Do you want me to speak to them?"

"No, no, I'll speak to Niamh. I just wanted to ask you if you'd noticed anything because you're good at picking up on things like that."

"Well, I haven't been here either."

"Mmm."

...

Niamh opened her eyes and sat up in bed. There was no use, she thought. There was no sleep to be had, and it was nearly morning anyway. She looked at Ambrose lying beside her. Happily sleeping. Nothing ever bothering him. Always being the same. She didn't understand it. But she did envy it.

She got out of bed, dressed quickly and left the room.

Ambrose opened his eyes.

...

"Good morning!" said Orla brightly as she swept into the pub's kitchen.

Assumpta nearly jumped, but managed not to. "Morning person, are ya?" she said.

"Well," Orla paused. "That depends on what I've been up to the night before."

"Ehm," Assumpta frowned and looked down at the notebooks and papers she'd been poring over. "Are you on some kind of roster? Is it in here?"

"Oh, I don't know if Niamh's got that written down or not, I usually work it out directly with her, but I'm guessing that now I'm gonna have to work it out with you? Is that right?"

"Yeah, well, I don't really know how that's gonna go yet. Might be a bit crowded with four of us, but I'm just looking at the accounts and they look good. Really good."

"I kept telling Niamh to get a computer to type them all up. There's programs that'll do your maths for you and everything. Brian said we could use his -"

"I am not having Fitzgerald's accounts on Brian Quigley's computer!"

Orla smiled. "That's what Niamh said."

"Well, look, I'll let you know about a roster or something but I think today I'll be fine without you."

"OK."

"Niamh didn't roster you on, did she?"

"No, she said as of today it's all up to you. She looked kind of relieved, to be honest."

"OK, well, I'll let you know."

"OK. See you later!"

Assumpta looked awkwardly after her.

...

"Kieran! Hey, there's my man!"

Kieran giggled as Peter picked him up. "Unkoo Peter," he said.

"It's so good to see you, mate, I've missed you!"

"Actually, Peter, would you mind looking after him for a bit?" said Niamh. "I'd like to talk to Assumpta."

"Sure, no problem - that'd be fun, wouldn't it, Kieran? I've got a present for you!"

Niamh stepped into the kitchen. The smell of baking greeted her. The accounts books were still open on the table.

"Hi!" said Assumpta, turning around from the stove.

"That smells good!"

"Oh yeah, I'm having a great time – cake, shepherd's pie, and I've got the soup on the go as well – I never thought I'd miss this, but I did. Having control over my own menu, my own…workplace…"

"Weren't you a manager where you were working in Manchester?"

"Yeah, but that's not the same as being the boss. Anyway, it was a chain pub, it was all standardised."

"Oh dear."

"I've been having a look at the accounts, they look fantastic. The place is actually turning a proper profit!"

"I was hoping you'd be pleased."

"Oh God yes, I was worried I wouldn't be able to afford to keep Orla, but if the place is turning a profit then maybe Peter and I can have more time to ourselves and she can do the work!"

Niamh smiled. "Good."

"Thanks." Assumpta looked like she meant it. She gave her friend a hug.

"Oh, it wasn't just me, it was Orla and…Ambrose. And my dad helped a bit."

"Just as long as he wasn't fingering the profits."

"No, he just gave me some tips on business management."

"Well done."

"Thanks."

Assumpta turned back to the stove.

"Actually, umm…" Niamh faltered.

Assumpta put the lid back on the pot of soup and turned back around. "What?"

"I was wondering -" The words caught in her throat.

"Do you want to talk about something?"

Niamh nodded. "Yeah."


	2. Chapter 2

"By the time I realised it was happening, it was already too late. I think I'm in love with him."

Assumpta looked thoughtfully at her friend, and then turned to gaze over the hills. "Are you sure he isn't just the grass on the other side of the fence?" she asked.

"At first I thought that, but…It's more than that. And it doesn't make any difference to my problems with Ambrose, either – it's not like I'm dissatisfied with Ambrose because I fell in love with Sean - I'm not, I was already dissatisfied with him. Our relationship broke down a long time ago, and he took his time realising that but I think he's figuring it out now."

"I'm so sorry, Niamh. I had no idea."

"Well yeah, how could you, you weren't here, and I wasn't talking about it to anyone."

"You could've rung me."

"I didn't have the time."

"Why?"

"Because I was running a pub and bringing up a child and waiting hand and foot on a husband -"

"Oh shit, it is my fault."

"What?"

"I know how much work that pub is, I shouldn't have left you with -"

"No, no, it wasn't that, it was…I really enjoyed running the pub - finally I was financially independent and I was doing my own thing, and Ambrose never wanted that."

"What do you mean?"

"He didn't want me to do it in the first place! He tried to talk me out of it!"

"Well if you working too much has driven you apart -"

"No, no. No, I wanted to work too much. I think I wanted to get away from him. Have time to myself. And then one day I realised that that's all we did, that we never spent any time with each other and we didn't even talk anymore."

"Do you think you can get that back?"

"I don't know."

"Do you think you can try?"

Niamh swallowed.

"Or do you want to leave Ambrose for Sean?"

"I don't know about Sean. I don't even know how he feels about me."

"Do you know how you feel about him?"

Niamh began to cry. "I don't know. I don't know what to do."

Assumpta hugged her and rubbed her back. "What do you want to do?"

"Well in reality I'm only dreaming, aren't I, I mean, I'm married to Ambrose and we have a son and…There's Kieran, Assumpta! I wish I didn't feel this way, I wish I felt the way I used to feel about Ambrose."

"Maybe you can get that back."

"But we never had that much anyway - I never looked at him the way you look at Peter, he never looked at me the way Peter looks at you…"

"Don't be silly, you had a lot, you had a wonderful relationship."

"Did we?"

"Yes! Don't you remember?"

"Not really."

"All you have to do is try. It's not too late."

"You think it's not?"

"I think it's not."

...

"Hiya, Michael!"

"Peter! I heard you were back! I'm sorry I couldn't make it down last night, I had a medical emergency."

"You know, that happens astoundingly often for you, Michael!" said Brendan.

"Surprisingly, yes!"

"Is everyone involved OK now?" asked Peter.

"Yes, they'll be fine, thankyou."

"Oh, good."

Kieran, sitting on the end of the bar next to Brendan, finished his raspberry lemonade and gave a burp that was surprisingly loud for one so small. "More?" he said, looking sweetly at Peter.

Brendan began shaking his head madly behind Kieran's back, and mouthing the word, "No!"

"Do you like orange juice, Kieran?" asked Michael. "I was just going to have some orange juice, would you like to join me?"

"OK," said Kieran, and Peter served both he and Michael with a glass of juice.

The door opened and in walked two priests.

"Father Mac! Father Aiden! How are you?" said Peter jovially.

"Well thankyou, and how is married life treating you?" Father Mac replied.

"Very well, thankyou Father!" Peter grinned.

Father Aiden looked a little uncomfortable, but nowhere near as uncomfortable as he looked when the door opened again and in walked Assumpta, followed by Niamh.

Assumpta merely glanced at the two priests and quickly pushed past them, heading for the kitchen.

"How are you, Assumpta?" said Father Mac. "How nice to see you."

"I'm good thanks, Father," said Assumpta, disappearing into the kitchen. She didn't even acknowledge Father Aiden.

"I told you, Father," said Father Aiden quietly, keeping one eye on the kitchen like a frightened rabbit. "She hates me."

"Not you, Father. It's got nothing to do with you personally. Why must you be so self-righteous as to think it has something to do with you personally!"

At the other end of the bar, everyone was distracted by the fact that Kieran had just spilled orange juice everywhere. Niamh was apologising profusely to Peter, and to Brendan, whose shirt had suffered a direct hit.

"I'm so sorry, thanks for looking after him, Peter – come on now, Kieran, are you hungry? Auntie Assumpta said she's going to give us some lunch. Come on, hop down from there."

"Unkoo Peter gave me a transformer!" said Kieran.

"Did he? Did you say thankyou? Did you?"

"Yes."

"Thankyou, Peter. Do you want to play with your transformer after lunch, Kieran? You can watch your Transformers video _and_ play with your transformer!"

"Yeah yeah yeah!"

They disappeared into the kitchen.

...

"So what should I do?"

Assumpta looked thoughtfully at her plate of shepherd's pie. "I guess I'm not really the one to ask, I've never been in that situation, but…Surely you just need to have some time to yourselves, why don't you go out to dinner or something? We could look after Kieran. Or you could have dinner at home, that'd be closer to the bedroom…"

"The bedroom?"

"How long has it been?"

Niamh shook her head. "Don't ask."

"Don't worry, it can't possibly be as long as my dry spell was!"

"Well, even if we did do that, there's no guarantee that it'd be any good."

Assumpta's eyebrows rose. "Oh."

"He's a sweet man, Ambrose, but he's just so boring. In every way."

"I could get Peter to have a talk to him."

"Peter?"

"Yeah!"

"About…?"

"Yes!"

Niamh was visibly surprised. "Peter's good?"

Assumpta met her gaze. "Oh yes. Well, I told him what to do, I mean…and he figured other things out. I mean, a man who has been so recently instructed by a woman, could be well placed – or I could talk to Ambrose directly, but I'd rather shoot myself in the head."

Niamh managed a giggle. "Do you think that would help? I mean, if we…"

"Definitely. Definitely."

They continued to eat in silence.

...

"Whiskey please, Niamh," said Brian distractedly as he walked into Fitzgerald's, staring at Donal, who was sitting at the bar reading what looked like a large picture book.

Assumpta, the only person who was standing behind the bar, grunted in surprise.

Brian looked around. "Oh, Assumpta! Sorry, force of habit. You're not Niamh!"

"No, I'm not!"

"Well how are you, then? Do you like what we've done to the place?"

"Err, if you mean the paintwork upstairs, we've had this conversation, Brian. You seemed very keen that I should know who paid for it."

"Yes, and I shall also pay you for a whiskey, should you get me one."

Niamh came out of the kitchen carrying a bowl of soup, which she placed in front of Brendan.

"Ah good, you are here, Niamh!" said Brian. His expression became serious. "How are you?" he asked.

"I'm fine," said Niamh, with a slight hint of a smile.

...

Assumpta was leaning back on the couch, her eyes closed. A manchester ad was blaring out of the television. "Is he really asleep now?" she grunted as Peter came back into the room.

"I think so," he replied, sitting down and putting his arm around her.

"I dunno why I called Orla in tonight, it's not as if we can spend any time together with a screaming child in the house!"

"He's fine, he's just missing his mummy, that's all."

"I hope his mummy is having a good time." Assumpta snuggled into Peter's shoulder, picked up the VCR remote and hit "play". "Did you have a good talk to Ambrose?"

"Well, err…"

She hit "stop" again. "Did you say what I told you to say?"

"Not…in so many words."

"Peter!"

"I tried, honestly, but that's just so awkward, you can't talk to a man like that, especially not one who's been married three years longer than you have!"

"Yes, but Niamh needed you to talk to him!"

"Oh, I'm sure they'll be fine. I told him the other stuff, that she was feeling disconnected from him and lonely and…"

"Well, I hope that helps, or else you're gonna be…in trouble."

"In trouble, eh? That sounds like fun."

"Shut up."

...

Niamh was standing at the kitchen sink, staring blankly out the window. The sink was full of washing up water, but Niamh wasn't touching the dishes.

There was a knock at the door. Ambrose's cheerful voice floated down the stairs. "Good morning, Assumpta, thankyou so much – for everything."

"Good night, then?"

"Really good."

"Daddy, Daddy, Unkoo Peter told me a story about a transformer that was in Ballyk, and it was in the sky and it came down, and it was walking along the street, and it was really big, it was big as the houses!"

"Oh really?" said Ambrose, taking his son onto his hip and going down the stairs, gesturing for Assumpta to follow. "Was it a good transformer?"

"Yeah, but the bad transformer was bigger, it was big as Figeral's!"

"It was as big as Fitzgerald's? Did the good transformer beat the bad transformer?"

"Yes, and you helped! Mummy!" Kieran's volume rose when he saw Niamh, who turned away from the sink. Assumpta's stomach dropped when she saw her face.

"I missed you Mummy! Did you know Daddy helped beat the bad transformer?"

"I missed you too, darling." Niamh swept the little boy into her arms and buried her face in his hair.

"I'm off to work, love," said Ambrose, coming over to kiss her. Her eyes wide, she turned away from him at the last minute so that he had to plant the kiss on her cheek instead of her mouth. "I love you," he whispered, and walked away grinning. "Thanks, Assumpta!" he called as he bounded up the stairs.

They heard the front door open and shut, and Assumpta looked at Niamh. "Not good?"

Niamh shook her head. "No." She took a breath. "Kieran, would you like to go and watch a video, sweetheart? Grandad brought you some new ones yesterday."

"Is there one about transformers?"

"I don't know, let's have a look."

Assumpta quietly made some tea and found some mugs. When Niamh came back in, she was just putting the milk on the table.

Niamh closed the kitchen door and leaned against it. "There was no Transformers. He's got Postman Pat."

"Oh, right. He's at an age where he can like little kid stuff and big kid stuff, is he? Peter spent _so_ long trying to decide on that present. He kept saying, 'I don't want to get something that's too young for him!' but then he was worried that transformers were too violent. I told him to shut up and stop fussing."

"Well, I think he's onto a winner."

"But that's not what we're here to talk about."

Niamh shrugged. "I'm quite happy to talk about that, it's far less depressing."

"So, he was looking rather happy, so I'm guessing, did you…?"

"Yeah," said Niamh glumly.

Assumpta reflected that she'd never seen anyone look less happy about getting laid. "Dammit, so it's Peter's fault, then – I'm sorry, he said he'd talk to him."

Niamh looked confused. "What? Oh, no, no, I…I don't think that would've made any difference."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't love him any more."


	3. Chapter 3

"Donal, are you going to tell me what you're doing?" asked Liam as he sat down next to Donal on the steps of Hendley's, a soggy-looking pre-packaged muffin in his hand.

"I'm reading."

"I think you're just looking at the pictures."

"No, I'm reading too. But would you look at that, that looks COOL!" Donal held up the book, pointing madly at a picture of some kind of large machinery object, which appeared to be attached to the side of a boat.

"What the hell is that?" asked Liam.

"_That_ is a 200 horse power, fully automatic industrial dredger!"

...

"I just didn't feel anything." Niamh stared blankly into her cup of tea. "You know how normally when you do that with someone you're meant to feel close to them – and I used to, I used to feel close to him, but this time…I just felt completely alone."

Assumpta's eyes widened in horror.

"Which is pretty strange, isn't it, because physically that's as close as you can get to another person, and yet I was completely alone…"

Nodding, Assumpta stood up and moved to sit next to Niamh on the other side of the table.

"And I kept thinking of Sean as well," Niamh added.

"Oh." Tears came to Assumpta's eyes and she pulled Niamh into a hug. "Oh Niamh, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry - I told you to do that!"

"It's not your fault."

"I know how it feels! I know exactly how that feels, and I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy, but you, Niamh…!"

"The thing is, he's my husband. What's wrong with me? Why can't I feel for my husband - I just keep thinking of Sean! Not that I want to sleep with him necessarily, well not now, but I can't stop thinking of him, I don't know what's wrong with me!"

"Nothing's wrong with you. I know how you feel, you're not crazy."

"You do, do ya?"

"Yeah, and it's pretty much the worst feeling in the entire world."

Niamh looked at her tea again. "Sometimes I think maybe…Well, you let me know if you agree, but maybe Ambrose is like Leo and Sean is like Peter?"

"Well it sounds like it, yeah! I had no idea that you felt that strongly for Sean – I'm sorry about what I said about the grass on the other side of the fence."

"That's OK. You can't know unless I tell you, can you?"

"Tell me. Tell me what you feel for Sean."

...

"Good morning, Kathleen!" said Peter brightly as he walked into Hendley's.

"Good morning," said Kathleen darkly.

"And how have you been?" He began walking around the shop, putting his purchases into a basket.

"I'm fine, thankyou."

Kathleen looked very relieved when the door opened again and in walked Father Aiden. "Hello, Father," she said, looking a little star struck.

"Father Aiden!" said Peter enthusiastically.

"Hello Kathleen, hello…Peter," said Father Aiden.

"That bingo night you ran was just wonderful, Father! It was so wonderful of you to do something like that for the ladies of the parish, we enjoyed ourselves so much!"

"Oh, well, I'm…glad to help, Kathleen. It was a while ago now, though."

"And it was all for charity too!" She turned to Peter, who was approaching the counter with his purchases. "The prize money went to a charity in Africa, you know. Africa! I bet you wouldn't have thought of that."

"Well, that was only because Bishop O'Kikby won the prize, Kathleen," explained Father Aiden.

Peter's eyebrows rose. "A bishop won it?"

"Oh, he was lovely, wasn't he?" said Kathleen. "What country was he from again?"

...

"Hiya, Niamh!" said Peter as he walked back into the bar. "Good night last night?"

"Oh. Yeah," said Niamh awkwardly.

"Hi Kieran! High five!"

Kieran giggled and put up a hand. Peter touched it gently and took his purchases into the kitchen.

"Do you want to talk to him about it?" hissed Assumpta.

"About leaving my husband? No!"

"What? He's a good listener!"

"No, Assumpta, I am _not_ talking to Peter about this!"

"You don't want me to tell him, then."

"No!"

"OK, OK, keep your hair on! What should I say to him, then?"

"What?"

"He thinks last night was good!"

"Well, if he asks…"

"Mmm?" Assumpta looked at Niamh expectantly.

"If he asks, don't lie to him, just _don't_ talk about my sex life and don't tell him that I'm thinking of leaving Ambrose, alright?"

"OK. But why are you -"

Assumpta stopped short as Peter came back through the kitchen door. Both women looked around as if they'd been sprung doing something naughty. Peter didn't seem to notice.

"Ambrose said you went to Angelo's, is that right, Niamh?"

"Yeah."

"I love Italian food." He looked at Assumpta. "Why don't we make lasagne tomorrow?"

"Sure, good idea."

Peter gave her a kiss on the lips, and she grinned.

"I still remember the first time I made lasagne with you," he continued.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, it was my first morning working here."

"Oh yeah, I remember that!"

"And you dropped the spoon in the soup pot!"

She laughed. "Trust you to remember that too."

"I remember everything."

Niamh watched them look into each other's eyes, their faces glowing. She wanted that.

...

"There you go, two pints and a glass of white, and that was two sandwiches, was it?"

"Yes, ham and cheese, we're on this table over here," said Niamh's customer. He picked up the drinks and went to sit down.

"OK, won't be long!" Niamh strode into the kitchen and went straight to the refrigerator at the back. She visibly jumped when she turned back around and saw Peter sitting on the couch reading a psychology text book.

"Sorry, Niamh! I should have announced my presence!"

Niamh let out the breath she suddenly realised she was holding. "I probably would have jumped either way."

"Haha. Watch out, there's a student on the couch!"

"How's it going?"

"Pretty well. We're on holidays at the moment."

"Why are you reading that, then? You swat."

"I start back next week."

"Well that's no excuse."

"That's what Assumpta said." He grinned.

There was silence for a little while, but Niamh could feel Peter watching her. She wished he wouldn't. He'd bore all her secrets out of her, she knew it.

"How's life, Niamh?"

"Fine. So you've transferred to distance education now?"

"I've transferred my course to Trinity and I'm doing distance education through them. That way I don't have to get on a plane to get to the exam centre."

"Fair enough."

Not being able to think of any more to say, Niamh slapped the sandwiches onto their plates rather quickly and made for the door.

"Wait, Niamh."

She froze, still looking at the door.

"Are you sure you're alright? Ambrose looks ten times better today, but you really don't."

Niamh looked down at him. "Is that text book giving you ideas?"

"You know me, I was always annoyingly insightful." He winked.

She looked at him for a long moment. He thought he saw fear behind her eyes.

"Ask your wife about it if you must," she said brusquely and swept out the door.

...

Sean Dillon came into the pub that night, for a quiet pint and to welcome Peter and Assumpta back. He brought Emma with him – he thought he'd be safer that way. But she ended up talking ten to the dozen with Peter about his course, and Sean found himself un-occupied. Un-distracted.

"That sounds fascinating!" Emma was grinning enthusiastically. "I always thought it'd be wonderful to be able to figure out what makes people tick – you know, even the really weird ones!"

"Well, a good social worker tries not to label their clients as 'weird'."

Emma laughed. "Of course not, sorry, I didn't mean that, I just thought, to us as human beings, well, each of us can only be one person, right, so to a certain extent everyone can appear weird to us, you know, if we don't understand how they're feeling."

Sean's eyes wandered to Niamh. She could feel them burning through her skin. When he looked away, he could feel her eyes piercing him too.

"Yeah, it's good to try and put yourself in other people's shoes," Peter said.

"Absolutely, I do do that, but when I try and put myself in my dad's shoes I usually fail miserably, don't I, Dad?" Emma laughed and nudged Sean in the ribs. "Eh, Dad?"

"What?" Sean looked at his daughter, his face blank.

"Oh, like now, for example!" she continued. "What are you thinking about?"

Brian sat by the door sipping his whiskey slowly, watching Sean all the while. He could see the way he was looking at his daughter. It wasn't right. But he didn't have a clue what to do about it, because his daughter was looking at Sean the same way. Maybe he should speak to Father Mac about it.

Brian's view of Sean was suddenly obscured by Donal, who was walking towards him with a dumb grin on his face. He was still carrying the book.

"Mr Quigley! Mr Quigley!"

"Yes, Donal," said Brian tonelessly, still looking at Sean.

"Guess what?"

"What?" There was a tone now, and the tone was irritation.

"I've found the perfect way to get those golf balls out of that pool!"

...

Peter swept the street outside the pub the next morning. He smiled under the rays of sun that cascaded across his back, knowing that it wasn't only they that made him feel warm and happy.

A fruit delivery truck pulled up outside Hendley's, and Kathleen came out to meet it. He waved and smiled at her, and she gave him a nod.

"Hi, Daniel!" he called to the truck driver.

"Oh, howarye Peter, how you doing?"

"Good thanks!"

Brian strode past, pursued by Donal. "But why not, Mr Quigley?" Donal was saying. "It'd be perfect, and there's no danger!"

Liam walked behind them, rolling his eyes.

"Why not, Mr Quigley?"

"Yes there would be danger, Donal, there'd be a very great danger to my pocket book, and to certain parts of your body that are very dear to you."

Niamh came out of the Garda house looking agitated.

"I'll get it, love!" said Ambrose, appearing in the doorway behind her.

Niamh shrank away from his outstretched hand. "I said I'll get the milk, Ambrose, I'm quite capable of that, you know!"

"But you said you didn't want to…" His voice faded out as she strode off along the street. "…do everything." He turned and went back into the house, a look of hurt and confusion on his face.

Peter watched Niamh march into Hendley's, and back out again less than a minute later, never even breaking her stride. She didn't see him watching because her eyes were pointed straight ahead, focussed in energy and anger.

"Niamh?" called Peter. She didn't seem to hear.

"She's got serious problems," Assumpta had said. It echoed in his mind. Serious problems.

...

Orla knocked on the door of the curate's house with a determined staccato. Her brother opened it calmly.

"Wanna do lunch?" she said. "I'm bored as hell."

"Bored as…?" The priest raised his eyebrows.

"Sorry. Bored as bingo! Are you free?"

"Sure, come in."

"D'you wanna go out? It's so boring here."

"Umm…OK." Father Aiden put on his jacket and stepped out the door. "Since when do you find Ballyk boring?"

"Since Niamh and Assumpta took over Fitzgerald's. They're catching up with each other for hours and hours and hours _whilst_ doing all the work, I don't have anything to do and it's SO BORING!"

"Are they giving you any shifts?"

"No! I haven't worked since Monday night!"

...

"Ah, this is how life should be," said Brendan contentedly after Assumpta placed a plate of lasagne in front of him and Niamh placed a pint of stout next to it. "Niamh _and_ Assumpta behind the bar!"

"What?" said Assumpta. "Two women waiting on you?"

"No! I could have three women waiting on me if Orla was here, but -"

"Whilst another one sits at home looking after your daughter."

Brendan sat back and grinned. "Because I missed _you_, Assumpta!" He picked up his knife and fork. "I had Aisling last night."


	4. Chapter 4

The next day dawned with clouds in the sky, and a fierce wind brewing. Father Mac and Brian stepped out of Brian's house, a glass of beer in each of their hands.

"One day of the year, the ants all come up out of the ground," said Brian. "Did you ever notice that?"

"No…" Father Mac looked where Brian was pointing.

"Hundreds of them. And always on one particular day."

...

"But what's she going to do?" asked Peter, following his wife from the kitchen into the bar.

Assumpta began polishing the beer taps. "I don't know. She keeps saying she doesn't know either, but that's more of a case of she doesn't know what she should do rather than she doesn't know what she wants to do."

"Well what did she say last night?"

Assumpta stopped polishing and turned her head to look at him. "She said she was gearing herself up for it."

"Gearing up for what?"

"I don't wanna…break any confidences."

...

The sheep dog was yapping strangely, bounding around the yard in circles.

"Trixie!" called Eamonn. "Will ya get after these sheep!"

"In you come. Go on!" said Danny, shutting the sheep into the barn.

"What have you been feedin' her?" asked Eamonn.

Danny looked at the spinning dog. "Just the usual."

...

"What have you been saying to her, though? Did you tell her to talk to Ambrose about how she feels?"

"Yes! I may not have studied psychology, but I am capable of giving good advice to my friend, Peter! That particular bit didn't help, though."

"What do you mean?"

"It's bad, OK, I've told you it's bad, but please stop asking me about it because I don't want to break any confidences. I've asked her if she wants to talk to you, and she said no."

Peter looked a little affronted. Niamh used to talk to him. "Well, what about Ambrose, then? Am I allowed to talk to him?"

"Yes, of course you're allowed to, I'm not disallowing you to do anything – Niamh said she doesn't want to talk to you about it because she doesn't feel comfortable, but that's not personal, it's nothing against you, it's just that it's a very serious thing and she doesn't want to talk to anyone else about it!"

"How serious?"

"I don't think there's anything you can do, Peter!"

"Well not if she won't let me talk to her!"

"Talk to Ambrose, then!"

"I will. I'll talk to him this afternoon. I'd go over there now but I promised Brendan I'd help with the school football practise."

"Good! Do that. You might wanna give Ambrose some warning, to be honest - I don't think he has a clue."

Peter's eyes widened. "Warning about what?"

...

Niamh was storming about the house, determinedly doing nothing in particular. Ambrose came to the kitchen door and stared at her.

"Niamh! Are you thinking of talking to me any time soon?"

Niamh turned on the stairs, throwing up her arms. "I'm talking to you now."

"You're speaking, I'm speaking – we're not talking to each other!"

Niamh put her hands on her hips and rolled her eyes. "Ambrose."

"There! That's what I mean – the very thought of talking to me makes your heart sink."

"It doesn't."

"I can see it in your face!"

"It's just not the moment!"

"Not the moment." He looked at her, desperately willing for some hint, some explanation.

"Will you watch Kieran?"

"Where are you going?"

"Nowhere!" Her temper cracked as she started back up the stairs. "Nowhere!" She opened the front door and closed it behind her.

...

Father Mac gazed lazily around the garden. Brian looked at his hands. Finally, he got up the courage to say it. "I think there's something between Niamh and Sean Dillon."

Father Mac looked at him, interested, but not necessarily surprised. "What kind of something?"

"I don't know. Just a feeling I have."

Father Mac spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully and then shooting them off as strong as darts. "Well, he is a dark horse. That's always appealing. The outsider has great allure. Especially one who inspires strong feelings in others."

"Are you saying it's my fault for disliking him?"

"No, not at all. After all, it wasn't you who started the feud, was it?"

"Certainly not."

"Even if it is you who's perpetuating it."

Brian looked at the old priest, frowning.

Father Mac turned away and looked idly at the sky. "We'll have rain later."

...

"Oh, no, Ryan, don't kick it that hard!" called Brendan exasperatedly. "If you kick it that hard it should be going towards the goal, not sailing over the boundary line!"

Peter blew the whistle. "Always watch who you're passing it to, boys!" he called. "Be aware of where your team mates are at all times!"

The boys placed the ball on the boundary line and one from the team opposing Ryan's took the free kick.

"Yes! That's good dribbling, Darren, well done!" called Peter.

Brendan winced in anticipation. "Oh, he's going to trip over the ball again…"

Peter looked back at him. "Why are you being so negative?"

"I wish Niamh was here, she could get them to play football properly! Could you make her stop working so much at the pub, please, so she can help me instead?"

Darren scored, and Peter grinned at Brendan. "You've got me now!"

Fat drops of rain began to fall from the sky. They got faster very quickly. Brendan grabbed Peter's whistle and blew it hard. "Alright, inside, everyone! Quickly now!"

...

Sean and Niamh stood under an old stone bridge, sheltering from the rain, which had now become a downpour.

"Irish summers!" grunted Sean.

"Don't tell me the English ones are any better!"

There was a pause as they both glanced around, peering out at the creek and up at the murky sky, looking anywhere but at each other.

Niamh was braver than Sean. She glanced at him, gritted her teeth and began to talk. "I'm embarrassed about blurting out all my troubles to you the other day – I shouldn't have done that."

"It's OK."

She was pretending to look at the creek, but her eyes kept darting back to him. "You said Ambrose was a lucky man to be married to me. You said a lot of nice things about me."

"You're a nice person."

She took a breath, but didn't falter. "I wondered after whether you meant them."

Sean nodded, a shadow of a smile on his face. "I meant them!"

"I mean…Did you say it to cheer me up because I needed cheering up, or because…"

"Or because."

...

"How tall are you, my dear?" said the man with the strange hat and tattered suitcase, which he was resting his arms on, leaning over the bar.

"Err…Five foot nine," said Orla, eyeing him curiously.

"Perfect! Pour yourself a drink, so. And I'll be requiring a room for the night."

"Uh…I'm not sure if the rooms are happening or not yet. Assumpta said we needed to get-"

"I'll be staying with you then, Donal. Just the one night only."

The door blew open, leaves flew past it and the rain pattered down in the howling wind. Ambrose, who'd been quietly nursing a pint at the table by the door, got up to close it. But he paused when he saw Sean's red pick-up van pulling up outside the Garda house and realised that his wife was inside. He didn't know what he was seeing – Sean was leaning across her, he was right over on her side of the car. Were they…?

Ambrose's mouth fell open and his eyes went wide with pain. He watched Niamh climb out of the truck and go into the house. He watched Sean drive away.

"Ambrose, what are you doing?" said Brendan. "Close the door!"

Ambrose stepped through the threshold and closed it behind himself.

He walked slowly across the street, barely noticing the rain. He walked through the door and up the stairs. He banged on the door of the bathroom.

"Niamh!"

He got no reply.

His tone became angry. "What were you doing with Sean Dillon?"

"Talking," said Niamh through the door.

"You won't talk to your husband but you'll go talk to a -"

The door opened and an angry Niamh came out. "To a what? To a what, Ambrose?"

"What were you talking about?"

"Me! Me, Niamh Egan, the woman you're very lucky to be married to!"

"He said that?"

Niamh looked away.

"What cause did he have to say that?"

"I think he thought I asked him."

"What are you doing talking to strangers about us? What does it matter what they think when your husband loves you, and your child!"

"Oh, you always love me. Rain or shine, rich or poor, good or bad, right or wrong - no matter what I do, you love me!"

"Those were my vows!"

"Yeah! And you're just obeying them! You never change! You never move on, you never look at me and think that I might move on!"

...

Standing before the bar in Fitzgerald's, Uncle Minto unfurled his map. "Ladies and gentlemen," he said. "If I might have your attention."

The door opened and Assumpta walked in, holding her jacket up around her ears. "God, it's bloody terrible out there," she said.

"I'd be glad of some hush!" Uncle Minto asserted. "I'm trying to address these people!"

Assumpta looked him up and down. "You're not addressing anybody in my pub without my say so!"

"Point taken."

Assumpta looked at Orla. "Where's Niamh?"

"At home. With Ambrose."

"Right." Assumpta disappeared into the kitchen.

"Now, if we're all quite ready, I'll start, OK?" Uncle Minto stepped in front of the door and unfurled his map again. "Ladies and gentlemen."

The door blew open again, and he quickly knocked it shut.

"Has anyone heard of Ufos?"

...

Niamh burst into the pub less than five minutes after Ambrose had left it. Assumpta looked at her, and jerked her head in the direction of the kitchen. Niamh followed her inside it.

"He knows," said Niamh, after Assumpta had shut the door.

"Who? Ambrose?"

Niamh nodded. "Nothing's even happened yet, and he knows!"

"What did he say?"

"Nothing much. I don't care. It's good that he knows, it's nice to see that he finally gets it, he's finally noticing what I am feeling!"

...

"Thanks, Peter!" said Ryan as he opened the car door and rushed into his house.

Peter bipped the horn and drove back down the main road. He pulled up outside the Garda house, only to find Ambrose charging out of it. Peter got out of the van. "Ambrose?"

Ambrose paused for a moment and looked at him, then strode over to his police car.

"What's happened, Ambrose? Hey, wait!"

His hand on the car door, Ambrose paused again.

"Will you tell me what's going on? Maybe I can help."

Inside the house, Ambrose leaned on the front door and looked Peter in the eye. "Can you help?" His voice was pleading. "You used to help with this."

"I want to help!" said Peter. "But I don't know what's wrong!"

Ambrose went down the stairs and into the kitchen. "So your wife's not talking to you either, then?"

"Well, she told me that's something's up with you and Niamh, but she said that Niamh had told her things in confidence and she couldn't pass them on."

Ambrose's thumbs fidgeted over his clenched fists. "Great."

"What can you tell me?"

Ambrose leaned against the wall and looked straight ahead. "I can tell you…" he said, "that I think my wife is having an affair with Sean Dillon."

"WHAT? Surely not, Ambrose – Niamh wouldn't do that!"

"I saw it just now. He dropped her back here. And before she got out of the car he leaned across her - I couldn't see what they were doing exactly, but…"

"What? You think they were kissing?"

"Yeah, probably. At the very least, she's been confiding some very intimate things to him."

"Oh come on, Ambrose, they can't have been kissing -"

"Don't 'come on' me! I know what I saw! And I know what she's been like for the past…I don't know how long! It feels like at least a year since she last talked to me, I mean really told the truth to me!"

"I know you've been having some problems."

"Oh, you know, do you? You figured that out, did you, in the four days that you've been here!"

"Yeah, and we talked about it, but after you went out to dinner you said it was OK!"

"I thought it _was_ OK! She didn't!"

"She's obviously very troubled. We need to respect that, give her some space -"

"What has Assumpta said to you?"

"Not much. Just that…that whatever it is, it's bad."

"Why haven't you talked to Niamh?"

"I've tried. She won't talk to me."

"Because she's having an affair!" Ambrose began pacing the kitchen, running his fingers through his hair. "That's bad, that's what it is! What did Assumpta say?"

"She can't be having an affair. It's Niamh."

"Niamh's changed since you left, buddy. Niamh's changed since she took over that pub, and had to work day and night, never having time for me and Kieran. She liked it, she didn't want to be around me any more, I didn't fit into her new life! And now she's found someone else who does! And she's not even running the pub any more, so she can be with him all the time!"

"Ambrose, calm down."

"Do you see what's been happening since you went away?" Ambrose yanked the door open and ran up the stairs.

"Ambrose! Ambrose!"

Ambrose was out the front door and onto the street.

"Ambrose, let's think objectively about this!"

He got into his car and turned on the engine and the windscreen wipers. He was soaked already, just from the short walk from the front door.

"Ambrose, wait! Where are you going?"

Ambrose clenched his jaw angrily, let off the handbrake and drove away.

...

Peter burst into Fitzgerald's' kitchen to find Niamh and Assumpta sitting at the table drinking whiskey. "What the hell is going on?" he demanded, looking between them.

Niamh looked up at Peter in fear.

"What, these?" said Assumpta, pointing at the whiskey glasses. "We fancied something stronger than tea."

Peter looked at her in confusion. "No, not that." He looked back at Niamh. "Niamh…You wouldn't have an affair. You _wouldn't_ do that."

There was a pregnant pause.

"No, I wouldn't," said Niamh.

"Oh, thank God." Peter buried his face in his hands. "I knew you wouldn't do that."

"No," she continued, steeling herself. "If I saw that my marriage was beyond repair, I'd just leave. If I fell in love with someone else, I'd leave. I wouldn't go behind Ambrose's back."

Peter moved his hands down his face and stared at Niamh in horror. She held his gaze.

"Niamh," said Assumpta quietly. "Kieran's asleep upstairs. Brian took him up there when Ambrose stormed off after you. Why don't you go and check on him?"

"OK." Niamh slowly stood and walked past Peter to the reception door. He watched her go. She watched her feet, not daring to look at him again.

When she'd closed the door behind her, Peter turned to Assumpta. His eyes were wide, questioning.

"Have a seat," she said.

He sat down across from her, his hands clasped in front of him. She put hers over his and began to speak. "Niamh initially told me that she hasn't connected with Ambrose for months. She doesn't feel close to him anymore. She's grown, she's changed…Grown up, I think. He's stayed the same. He still expects her to do the same things for her, and to be the same. He didn't even seem to notice that there was anything wrong.

"She also mentioned Sean then, but I thought he was just the grass on the other side of the fence. She was dissatisfied with Ambrose so she was looking at him. I didn't think it was serious. And she seemed to want to reconnect with Ambrose, so I said we could take Kieran and we set up that date. But did you see how that went? Did you see how they…reacted the next day?"

Peter's gaze was intent, but he said nothing.

"Ambrose…was grinning like a Cheshire cat, and Niamh…Niamh looked like her grandma had just died. They'd grown so far apart that they reacted to their being together, to their shared night, in completely opposite ways. Neither of them could understand the reaction of the other. And Ambrose didn't even notice that Niamh was upset, not until she started giving him the cold shoulder again!"

"OK," said Peter. "So one night wasn't enough. But they can still work on this, they can go to counselling!"

"It's more complicated than that."

"How?"

Assumpta paused. "What have you heard about Sean Dillon?"

"Just what Ambrose told me just now! He said he saw Niamh in his car, and Sean leaned over, maybe to kiss her, but Ambrose said he couldn't be sure and I didn't believe him."

"When was this?"

"This evening, maybe an hour ago?"

"Sean gave her a lift back here. But I haven't heard anything about that – she didn't kiss him, she would've told me. She's telling the truth – she's not having an affair."

"Where was he giving her a lift back from?"

"His place. They talked. They've talked before, too. They haven't done anything else, but Niamh is in love with him and she thinks he feels the same."

Peter's brow furrowed, and his eyes grimaced in confusion. "No way."

...

Sean ran from the barn to the house, the rain streaming over his jacket, only to find that his daughter was running behind him.

"Dad!"

"Emma, where have you been?"

"Trixie's gone missing!"

"What?"

"Trixie, Eamonn's dog, she's gone missing!"

"Well what do you want me to do about it, let's get inside!"

They ran into the house. The wind whistled through the open door, and several leaves flew in after them as Emma quickly slammed the door shut behind her. Her hand went to the light switch, but it did nothing. "What happened to the lights?"

"They fused."

"Are you going to fix it?"

"Well that's what I'm trying to do!"

"You picked a great day to paint my sign!" Grabbing her lantern, Emma stormed up the stairs.

"Emma, until you've got something sensible to say, will you just shut up!"

Reaching the stop of the stairs, she yelled back down at him, "I'm glad I'm leaving!"

"I'm glad you're leaving!"

"Well not as glad as I am!"

Their world changed in an instant. There was a creak and then a deafening sound of breaking glass, and Sean looked behind himself to see a tree branch plunging into his kitchen. He looked around in horror as more windows broke and the door flew open. "Emma!" he screamed, charging up the stairs as fast as he could.

"Dad! Help, Dad!"

At the top of the stairs, Sean found that the corridor was filled with tree branches, and his daughter was screaming from her room on the other side. "Emma!" he screamed as he stumbled over the branches.

"Dad! Help!"

"Emma!" He charged into her room to find her sitting limply by the window.

"What's happening?" she whimpered.

Sean grabbed Emma's shoulders. "Are you hurt?"

"What's happening?"

He shook her, and his volume rose. "Are you hurt?"

"No, I don't think so."

Relieved, Sean hugged his daughter to him and she cried into his shoulder.


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning, it was quite a sight. Nowhere in Ballyk had been left untouched. The main street was awash with water and leaves, mixed in with litter, beer barrels and milk crates. Two of the benches outside Fitzgerald's had been blown over, and the flower box from one of the upstairs windows had fallen down onto another.

Assumpta opened the accommodation door and surveyed the scene. "Oh dear."

"How bad is it?" said Peter, coming up behind her and looking around. "Wow. I guess we were lucky nothing worse happened."

"Here, give me a hand." She took hold of the nearest capsized bench, and Peter grabbed the other end.

"Top of the morning to you!" called Uncle Minto, who was talking to Kathleen across the street.

"_Top_ of the morning?" said Assumpta.

...

Eamonn walked slowly up to the Dillon house, surveying the enormous tree that was almost completely obscuring it from view. He stopped next to Sean, who was standing in front of the house with his hand over his face. Aware of Eamonn watching him, he turned. "Well?"

"Did you ever think it could be a sign?"

Sean's mouth wrinkled with distaste. "Thankyou for your thoughts, Eamonn."

Eamonn looked him up and down, turned and began to walk away.

"You know, Eamonn," said Sean suddenly. "You're absolutely right! It's all been an almighty cock-up! An almighty cock-up from start to finish!"

Eamonn began to speak, but was cut off. Sean pointed a finger at him. "And you knew all along, didn't you? You, more than anyone else! You – _you_ could see the mistakes I was making! Piling one fiasco on top of another! Never admitting defeat!"

He picked up a sodden armchair and began making a pile out of it and the other flotsam that was strewn over the yard. "Oh no!" he said. "It was all, all pointless!"

Eamonn followed him about the yard with a dumbfounded expression on his face. "Well, I – I wasn't -"

"I should have listened, but I didn't, d'you know why? Cos I'm stupid! And I'm stubborn! And I'll tell you what else I am. I'm wrong! All wrong!"

"You're not wrong, Sean!"

"How much did you give me for those fields? Go on, how much?"

"A penny piece the pair."

"And how many fields do I have?" demanded Sean, manhandling a table across the lawn.

"Thirty-one!"

"So that makes how much?" The table broke as he threw it on the pile.

Eamonn looked around in confusion. Sean looked back at him for an answer.

"Ten pence ha'penny," Eamonn replied.

Sean stepped forward and shook his hand. "Done. Done. And what'll we say for the house? A fiver? It does have a tree lying on it."

Eamonn turned and walked away, holding the hand that Sean had shaken out in front of him, and looking more confused than he ever had before.

...

Peter knocked on the door of the Garda house. Niamh answered it, and regarded him with an expression of angst and guilt.

"Is Ambrose in?" he asked.

"No."

"Good." He stepped past her and into the house. "Just you and me, then."

He began walking down the stairs to the kitchen, but looked back when he realised she wasn't following him. She stood with her hands in her pockets, her back to the door, looking down.

"Are you OK?" he asked.

"No." It was the first time she'd answered that question honestly.

"Come and have a cup of tea," he said, stepping into the kitchen. Niamh followed reluctantly, taking a seat at the kitchen table and looking at her hands.

Peter put the kettle on and turned to look at her. "I know you'd rather talk about this with Assumpta," he said. "But…you've already done that. And she doesn't think she can help. She doesn't think I can help either, but…I'd like to try."

Niamh met his gaze. "Thanks, Peter. I appreciate it." She looked away again and began to fidget with some dying flowers that were in a vase on the table. "But I just don't think I even… I don't know if there's any point in me talking, my head -"

"Talk to Ambrose."

Two flower heads broke off their stalks and fell onto the table.

"He's a good man, you know, Niamh."

"I know that, Peter."

...

"Very good of you to come and try and talk me round, Father," said Sean, pushing aside some branches and climbing through his kitchen window. "Especially since I've never been to that church of yours. Watch yourself, now. It's a bit of a jungle in here."

Father Aiden stepped through the window after him and looked around at the ruined kitchen.

"But, if you think you're gonna change my mind, you're on a hiding to nothing."

"Well I can see how things over the last few days could give you the impression that life here is an uphill struggle."

"You're telling me."

"I'm not saying it's never a good idea to act on your first impulse, but…sometimes it's a better idea to allow yourself a few days of reflection."

"Reflection's all very well in a monastery, Aiden. But not in the real world."

"Life in there is all sweetness and light, is that what you think?"

Sean sighed. "Forget I said it."

"You think I'm not qualified to comment on what real men do?"

"I know you mean well."

"God save us from the well-meaning."

Sean looked at him, frustrated. "What, then?"

"Stop and think. You're a resourceful man. Draw up a plan of action. See how things look a week from now."

"What difference is a week gonna make?"

Both men looked around as a two-stroke engine was heard starting outside. Sean went to the window to see Liam and Donal at the base of the tree, each holding a chainsaw.

"You'll be needing this out of the way first, yeah?" called Liam.

Father Aiden smiled. Sean looked completely bemused as all of a sudden trucks, vans, cars, an excavator and scores and scores of people came out of nowhere. The people of Ballyk had come to help their neighbour.

...

Brian came into the bar to find Assumpta wiping tables and Niamh staring into space. There was nobody else to be seen.

"Where are they all?" he asked.

Breaking her reverie, Niamh turned to look at him. "Up at Sean's."

"Doing what?"

"Helping him."

"Helping him pack his bags?"

"Oh leave off, Brian," said Assumpta.

Brian glanced at her, then looked back to Niamh. "Give me a whiskey," he said, placing his hat on the bar. "There was a time when a grudge was good for five generations. Now you're lucky if it sees out the week."

"That's good, isn't it?" said Niamh as she placed his whiskey in front of him.

"Good if you're a family of stone-hearted thieves," Brian replied.

"Sean's not a thief."

"Is he not?"

"No."

Brian looked his daughter in the eye. "Not been taking something that doesn't belong to him?"

"No!"

Brian took a long draught of his whiskey. "Ah well," he said. "What does any of us know." After a few moments of silence, he put on his hat, turned and left.

Niamh looked at Assumpta, and a tear fell down her cheek. "Come here," said her friend, and took her into her arms.

"What am I going to do?" choked Niamh.

"What do you want to do?"

Niamh didn't reply. Assumpta pulled back and looked at her. "You must know."

Niamh's face puckered and more tears fell.

"Do you want to be with Sean?"

Niamh's breath came in gasps, in and out. "I know I don't want to be with Ambrose. But I don't know what could possibly happen between Sean and I, I mean…"

"Sometimes you just have to follow your heart. Regardless of whether it will reward you or not. You can't lie to yourself any more, Niamh. You don't want to live a lie, do you?"

...

Peter sat at the kitchen table in the Garda house. Ambrose sat across from him, staring into the vase of brown, shrivelled flowers.

"There's no use moping by yourself," said Peter. "Win her back, mate! Have faith in yourself that you can do that!"

Ambrose looked away from the flowers and began staring at the wall, a defeated expression on his face. "It was hard enough winning her the first time."

"But you did! And she doted on you, she adored you! I know that feeling is still there somewhere."

"I don't think she ever adored me, Peter."

"Oh come on, mate, don't kick yourself while you're down! She married you, didn't she? She declared her love for you in the house of God!"

Ambrose continued staring at the wall, his expression unchanging.

"She loves you, it's just that she's lost sight of that somehow. You need to bring it back to her."

From upstairs there came the sound of the front door opening, and of feet descending the stairs. Ambrose still didn't move, not even when the door in front of him opened and all of a sudden Niamh was looking down at him.

"Oh," said Niamh awkwardly. "Hi, Peter."

"Hi." He could see that she'd been crying. He looked at Ambrose, who slowly raised his head to look his wife in the eye. "I love you," he said.

"I'd better go," said Peter. "Remember what I said, Ambrose." He clapped him strongly on the shoulder, then turned to Niamh. "And remember what I said to you, too."

"Let's talk," he heard Niamh say as he walked back up the stairs. A faint smile appeared on his face.

...

"They're talking," Peter announced quietly as he stepped into Fitzgerald's.

Assumpta, scrubbing the sink behind the bar, straightened up and breathed in. "Right," she said.

"And if they… If they can just pull their heads out of their own insecurities, then they'll be alright." He nodded thoughtfully.

"Peter."

"Mmm?"

"It's over."

"What?"

"That's it, it's gone. It's gone far too far for any of us to do anything about it."

Peter's mouth fell open and his eyebrows rose and fell at the same time as he looked at his wife in alarm.

"Not even them," she said.

...

Niamh placed the tea cup and tea pot in front of Ambrose. He didn't touch them, looking up at her expectantly. She pulled a chair around to the end of the table next to him and sat down.

She breathed slowly, and his worry-ringed eyes looked gently at her. She managed to meet them.

"When he first came to Ballyk," she said, "I thought I saw a look in his eye. Nothing was ever said… It could have been nothing, for all I knew." Her voice began to break, but only a little. "But it was flattering to me! In a ki…In a kind of a background sort of a way, that didn't matter much. Just a little bit of something for me to think about now and again. Something between me, and myself."

She looked down and breathed deeply, struggling to retain her emotional control. "And then when I saw him in Cilldargan. I thought there could have been something more. I didn't think I wanted that. But it was there. And it niggled at me 'till I wasn't sure."

Ambrose swallowed. "And now?"

"I don't know, Ambrose." His eyes riled in pain and she shook her head. "I'm sorry."

Her soliloquy ended and there was only the sound of their breathing.

...

Peter dashed out onto the street, Fitzgerald's' door vibrating from the impact.

"Peter, don't!" Assumpta charged after him. "Peter, leave them be!"

He stopped in his tracks and turned to look at her. His face was contorted in disbelief, and disappointment. He opened his mouth, and his voice was angry. "Why are you doing this? How can you give up on them like this?"

There was the sound of another door being opened violently as Niamh rushed out of the Garda house. "Niamh!" said Assumpta, moving towards her.

Niamh looked at them both, then turned and set off up the street at a smart pace.

Assumpta looked at Peter, but it was only for a second before she cried, "Niamh!" and ran off after her friend.

"Assumpta! Assumpta, come back here! Niamh!" Something moved in his periphery, and Peter turned to see Ambrose standing in the doorway of the Garda house. "Ambrose," Peter said, his voice soft now. He saw the tears welling up in Ambrose's eyes before he abruptly turned and set off down the street in the other direction.

"Ambrose!" called Peter. He stood fixated for a moment, looking between the hill the two women had disappeared up, and the quickly shrinking figure of Ambrose, who was now turning onto the bridge.

"Ambrose!" Peter cried. "Wait!" Peter turned right, and ran.


	6. Chapter 6

Niamh vaulted over the first stile she came to and began walking through the long grass of a field. The field was on a hill that was quite steep, but she didn't let that break her stride. She hadn't done the previous day either.

"Niamh!" panted Assumpta. "Just stop for a second!"

Niamh paused and looked around.

"Don't you want a hug or something?"

Niamh considered this for a second, then shrugged. "Sure."

Assumpta walked up to her friend and put her arms around her. Niamh clung to her tightly. "That is the worst thing I have ever ever done," she gasped.

Assumpta pulled away, her hands on Niamh's shoulders. "Is that it? Did you leave him?"

Niamh took a breath. "Not in so many… I didn't say that, I – I told him about Sean." She paused. "No, I didn't leave him, did I? We're still together! But I told him, and…you should have seen the look on his face!" Her voice broke. "He's a good man, and I've -"

"Peter'll look after him."

Niamh nodded. "Yep. Yeah, I bet he will." Niamh wiped the tears from her face. "Don't you go falling out of love with that one, now, will ya?"

Assumpta shook her head. "No. I won't."

"All I want to do now is go and see Sean."

Assumpta nodded. "OK. Let's go." She turned and began walking back down the hill.

"Where are you going?"

"We'll go in the car, dumbo! It's two and a half miles!"

"Oh. Yeah."

"You'll climb over hill and dale for him, will ya?"

They both started walking back to the stile, and Assumpta put her arm around Niamh. "I hear there's a party up there," she said. "That'll be fun."

...

They'd walked a good half a mile. Peter had given up talking now. All he'd been able to get out of Ambrose was a tortured, "You told me I could win her back!"

Peter stumbled over the river stones, trying to keep pace. He didn't know why Ambrose hadn't fallen by now. He thought he had fallen when the sound of footsteps in front of him suddenly stopped.

Peter looked up. Ambrose hadn't fallen, but he was standing stock still. "Where's Kieran?" he said.

Peter's eyes widened in panic and he looked back in the direction of the pub.

Ambrose turned. "You're running after me, your wife is running after Niamh – who's looking after my son?"

"He's in the lounge room. I left him watching a video."

Ambrose strode past him, not saying a word. Peter turned and set off at a run, and it was only luck or God that stopped him from turning his ankle on the stones. Arriving back at the bridge, he took the steps three at a time and flung himself onto the road so hard he nearly fell over. Ambrose appeared behind him and they both stood, panting, on the far side of the bridge. Something had made them stop.

Assumpta and Niamh were outside the pub, getting into Assumpta's van. Kieran was in Niamh's arms.

"Oh, thank God," said Peter. "They've got him."

Ambrose looked at him in incredulity. "They've got him? _They've _got him? How is that a good thing?"

The van pulled away. Ambrose took a couple of faltering steps after it. "Oh my God, they've got my son – they've got my son!"

"Steady on, Ambrose! They're not going to hurt him – they probably had the same realisation as us and went back to get him!"

Ambrose paced along the bridge, fire in his eyes. "And where are they taking him, where are they going?" He stopped. "I know where they're going."

He strode off over the bridge, leaving Peter once again running after him. "Come on, Ambrose!" he panted. "Just stop and think for a minute! Ambrose? Ambrose!"

...

Niamh and Assumpta arrived at the Dillon farm to find the party in full swing, folk music playing, people whooping and dancing. Assumpta looked at Niamh and grinned. Niamh smiled back. Then Sean saw her and the smile fell. Niamh walked towards him. Assumpta stepped back, taking Kieran by the hand.

Niamh and Sean looked into each other's eyes, each wearing a very serious expression. Then Sean's eyebrows rose and he said, "Dance?" Niamh smiled coyly and he swept her onto the dance floor.

...

The Garda car collided with Peter's knees, and there was an audible bump. He didn't even feel the pain. "Let me come with you, at least!" he pleaded with the driver.

Ambrose said nothing in the car. When he got to the cluster of vehicles parked at the edge of Sean Dillon's property, he threw on the brakes and swung off the driveway so fast the wheels spun. He yanked on the handbrake and turned off the engine, and strode out into the night. He was heading towards the light from the bonfire, Peter striding beside him.

"Let's think practically about this," said Peter. "What are we going to do?"

"I'm going to ask you again, Peter, what has Assumpta said to you?" Ambrose's eyes remained pointed dead ahead as he wove his way through the parked cars, focussed on his goal.

"Assumpta's a pessimist," said Peter quietly. "I'm an optimist."

Ambrose didn't have time to react to this as the people dancing by the bonfire came into view and his gait slowed to a crawl. He saw them, his wife and Sean. They were dancing and they were laughing and grinning, and she had that look in her eye, the look she used to reserve for him.

Ambrose stopped and stared, his eyes pining for her while another man held her in his arms and grinned.

Peter saw it too, and he felt a spasm in his throat. He wanted to reach out to Ambrose, to comfort him, but for the first time in his life he didn't have a clue how to do that.

Ambrose looked down, turned and walked slowly away. Peter watched him go, speechless, not having the words to stop him even if he wanted to. He turned back to Sean and Niamh, and then he saw her. Assumpta was standing at the edge of the dance floor, watching Sean and Niamh dance, and she was smiling.

Peter's mouth fell open and his face contorted in horror.


	7. Chapter 7

"What the hell are you doing?" said Peter as he grabbed Assumpta's shoulder and pulled her away from the crowd. His tone was accusatory.

She looked up at him. "Oh, hi, Assumpta, how are you, wanna dance?"

He stopped under a tree and turned to face her, a mixture of anger and disbelief in his eyes. "What are you doing? You're letting this happen?"

"What are you giving me the third degree for?"

"Niamh is looking into the eyes of another man and you're standing there smiling at them!"

"Yes! I am!"

"What?"

"What? Am I not allowed to be happy that my friend has finally found something that she can actually genuinely smile about?"

"No!"

Assumpta's gaze hardened and her voice went dangerously low. "Oh. I'm not allowed, am I?"

"I mean – what about Ambrose?"

"What about him?"

"Did you see his face just now?"

"No, I'm sure he's very upset, but there's nothing I can do about that!"

"Nothing you can do – nothing you can do? Niamh listens to you!"

"Oh, and you want me to tell her to spend her life in misery, do you?"

"She loves him!"

"Who, Ambrose or Sean?"

"Ambrose!"

Assumpta shook her head. "Peter, you're in denial, you need to stop it."

Peter's hands flailed wildly. "All that time you refused to tell me anything, I thought at least _you_ were trying to help!"

"I am trying to help! I'm trying to help Niamh!"

"She's a wife and mother -"

"She can't help what's happened, all she can do is move on!"

"She has duties! Responsibilities!"

That hit a nerve. Assumpta let out a breath very slowly, shaking her head and fixing him with a glare. "I thought you were better than that."

"I thought _you_ were better than that!"

"Oh, that's rich! What do you think I am, a dutiful wife who thinks all marriages should last forever and everyone should always obey the Church?"

"No, but -"

"I can't believe you, I can't even look at you anymore!"

She stormed off through the trees and into the night. Peter stood looking after her, breathing fast. He could feel his world spinning out of control around him. He looked around, and saw Niamh standing at the edge of the crowd, taking a bottle of beer from an old bathtub in the yard. Without a second thought, he strode towards her.

He grabbed her arm, rather more roughly than he intended to. "Niamh, what are you doing?" he demanded.

Taken aback, Niamh opened her mouth to speak but was unable to get anything to come out of it.

"Ambrose saw you and the look on his face, Niamh! You're breaking his heart!"

Niamh looked away. "I don't want to hurt him."

"Then why are you?" Peter put his hands on Niamh's shoulders. "Just think about this, please, think of your vows, think of what you used to feel for him - it's buried somewhere in your heart, you can get it back -"

"Get away from her!" Peter felt a sharp pain as Assumpta's hand collided with his chest. Letting go of Niamh, he jerked backwards, almost losing his balance. Finding his feet again he looked at Assumpta, and found a coldness in her eyes he had never seen before. Her frown was so sharp it cut him, her flashing pupils burning through every principle, every care he'd ever had.

"Get out of here," she hissed.

His eyes wide with fear and pain, he did what she said. He stumbled on the turn, and his shaking legs took him away as fast as they could. When he got to the parked cars, the tears began to fall.

...

Niamh was looking at her friend with wide eyes similar to Peter's. After a few moments, Assumpta turned to her. "Are you OK?"

"Y-yeah…"

"Don't worry about him. Let's enjoy ourselves. Wanna dance?"


	8. Chapter 8

The Land Rover slowed down, and the figure turned to look at it, his wet eyes dazzled by the headlights.

"D'you wanna lift?" said Siobhan. "It's a long walk."

Peter hesitated, then nodded slowly. "OK. Thanks."

"You'll have to sit in the back, though!" came Brendan's voice from the passenger seat.

Peter slipped into the seat behind the driver's, and tears came to his eyes again as an old memory hit him. A memory of Assumpta. He turned away so that Brendan wouldn't see.

"Did the person who gave you a lift up there shirk on the return journey?" asked Brendan.

His eyes still on the window, Peter wasn't sure how to reply, so he said nothing.

"Well you didn't walk all the way up there as well, did you?"

"No." Peter was surprised by the faintness of his voice. "No, I… I went up with Ambrose."

"Ambrose, eh? Oh dear. I didn't know he'd gone there."

The Land Rover went over a bump and Aisling, in her basket on Brendan's lap, began to cry. He took her into his arms and began patting her on the back. "Oh, shhh, shhh, shhh. I know, it's hard, isn't it, you should've been in bed a long time ago."

Aisling continued to cry. "Can I hold her, Brendan?" said Peter.

Brendan turned to look at him. "OK, have a go." He handed her over. "I hear you're a miracle worker with crying children."

Peter held the baby tightly, pressing his face to her head and kissing it. She stopped crying and fell back to sleep. Peter closed his eyes and didn't move. He didn't relax, but it made him feel just a little bit better.

No-one spoke for the rest of the ride. Eventually, Siobhan pulled up outside Fitzgerald's and Peter handed Aisling back to Brendan, opened the door and got out, thanking Siobhan for the lift as he did so. He was just about to slam the door shut when Brendan called out to him.

"Peter!"

Peter opened the door again and looked inside. "Yeah?"

"Wait up for her. Don't go to bed angry."

Peter nodded slowly. "Thanks, Brendan." He shut the door and walked slowly across the road to the pub. Siobhan stepped on the accelerator.

"I didn't have a damn clue what to say to him," said Brendan as they drove away.

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about him," Siobhan replied. "It's not his marriage that's falling apart."

...

It was past midnight when Assumpta unlocked the blue door and slipped inside, sliding the bolts home behind herself. She picked her way through the dark pub, and was almost at the stairs before he spoke.

"Assumpta."

Assumpta visibly jumped, and spun around to find her husband sitting in an armchair by the fireplace. "Jesus! What the bloody hell are you doing sitting there in the dark?"

He sat up and looked at her with eyes that were gentle but fearful. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."

"Well, you did! You could've put the lights on!"

"Sorry." His voice was faint. "I was waiting for you."

She sighed. "Oh. Better get a drink, then." She strode over to the bar, turning the lights on as she went.

Peter stood and took a couple of steps towards her, then stopped. "I… I didn't mean to be so….accusatory. I was surprised, and…it's hard for me to understand."

"Oh really. It's hard for you, is it?"

She strode back over to the fireplace, two glasses of whiskey and water in her hands. She handed one to him, took a sip out of hers and then put it on the mantelpiece. "I don't appreciate being told that you 'thought I was better than that'. I can't be any more than what I am, and I thought you knew what that is."

"I do. I don't want you to change." He looked down. "In my defence, you said that first."

She took another sip of her whiskey and leant one elbow on the mantelpiece. "Yeah. And I meant it. Duties and responsibilities – I can't believe you said that! I did think you were better than that!"

"I…I'm sorry, I don't understand why that's…contentious. I have duties and responsibilities to you and I take them seriously."

"Oh, and that's the only reason you stay married to me, is it?"

"No!"

"Good. Good. Because that's not what marriage is about, marriage is about love and wanting to share your life with that person, and if one or both partners do not want that any more then the marriage is over!"

She was pacing and throwing her arms about, and it made him nervous. "Why don't we sit down?" he said, and went back to his armchair. She glared at him for a moment and then went to sit in the second armchair.

"I can't believe that Niamh doesn't love Ambrose any more. I just can't believe that – I can see that she believes she doesn't, and that you believe she doesn't, but it's just got to be there somewhere, she's just buried it, she's lost sight of it. And if in the mean time, until she can find that again, if she can focus instead on her duties and responsibilities and the vows she made to him -"

Assumpta jumped up again and began pacing in front of him, leering over him. "Who are you to say that? Who are you to say that because she made a vow to one man one time when she was only twenty-two, that she now has to stick with him forever – who are you to say that, who are you to force her to do that?"

"I'm not forcing -"

"I made a vow to a man once – do you remember that? It wasn't you! Do you think I should have stuck with that one?"

Peter closed his eyes. The memory still pained him. "That was different," he said.

"Different? How was that different?"

"Well they have a child, for one -"

"Ooh, stay together for the child, that's a good one - the Church pulls that one out all the time, along with all the babble about duties and responsibilities!"

Peter frowned, not sure what point she was trying to make.

"If you were a priest now, what would you do? Would you take her aside, would you make her a cup of tea? Would you babble on and on about the vows she'd made in the sight of God, richer or poorer, sickness and health, would you tell her it was her duty to care for her husband and to raise her child in a 'proper' family environment, go on and on about God and the people she loves until she's so filled up with guilt she can't do anything but what you tell her!"

Assumpta was yelling now, worse than that, screaming, and Peter was bolted to his chair in shock, not a clue of what to do or say, or of where this accusation had come from.

"No!" It was all he could say.

"Would you tell her she'd go to hell if she didn't?"

"Assumpta, no!" Peter leapt off his chair and put his hands on her shoulders. "No I wouldn't, no! How can you even think…"

Assumpta looked at him, breathing hard. He realised there were tears in her eyes. He gently shook his head. "No, I wouldn't. I am better than that."

She looked away, still breathing hard. He rubbed her shoulders. "Sit down?"

She grabbed her whiskey off the mantelpiece on the way to the chair and sat there holding it in her shaking hands. Peter squatted down in front of her and put a hand on hers. "I'm having trouble understanding how Niamh can stop loving Ambrose, because I could never stop loving you. I can't see how it's possible – I know it's not possible for me, but to see it in other people, and to look at that as a married man, it scares me."

"We're OK," Assumpta said matter-of-factly. "We're different. Some relationships last and some don't. It's a fact of life."

Peter began to stroke the back of her hand. "Can you tell me…what Niamh has told you? I know you said she didn't want you to, but was that…did she just not want me to know?"

Assumpta nodded. "I think part of her still thinks of you as a priest – I mean, you married them, for God's sake. She didn't want you to judge her. Or, more specifically…" She met his eyes. "…to be disappointed in her."

"Well, I know now. And I'm trying to understand it. I want to understand what she's feeling, and more than that, I want to understand what you're feeling. Can you explain it to me?"

Assumpta sighed. "Yeah, sure. It's all blown up now, anyway. No point keeping any secrets."

Peter stood up, moved his chair closer to hers and sat down. He waited for her to speak.

"As you know, my initial reaction was the same as yours. Save the marriage. That certainly would have been the easier option if it was possible. For her and for Kieran. So, I told her to talk to him, to tell him exactly how she felt and what she wanted him to do to pull his weight in the marriage – I mean, he never does any housework, for example. There were a lot of things she told me that she wanted him to do and he didn't, so I said, 'Tell him. And tell him why, tell him how it makes you feel, and get him to agree to make some kind of compromise.' And it sounds like they did do that when they went out to dinner, the discussion went OK, and then… The other thing that I advised her to do was to sleep with him. Bring back the magic, as it were. Re-establish the connection between them. I thought that's what it would do, so I told her they should do that and they did.

"I went over there the next morning and Ambrose was grinning from ear to ear, he kept thanking me. But Niamh…There was no smile on her face, she was staring blankly, looking completely miserable. I sat down with her, I said, 'What's wrong?' and she said that she didn't love him any more, and she knew for sure now that she didn't because she slept with him and she didn't feel a damn thing for him. Can you imagine that, Peter? Sharing the most intimate thing you can do, the closest you can physically get to another person, and it's someone that you used to love, it used to fulfil you and make you feel safe and happy but all of a sudden, you realise that that's gone, you don't feel anything for him anymore and you're just physically going through the motions but emotionally you don't feel anything at all, and she said to me, 'Assumpta, there I was with my husband, as physically close to him as I could possibly be and yet I felt completely alone.' Can you imagine that?"

Slowly, Peter shook his head. "No."

"Well I can. I've been in a marriage like that whilst being in love with someone else and I know exactly how that feels, and it's fucking awful. She said she kept thinking of Sean, too. Whilst making love to Ambrose, she closed her eyes and thought of Sean. That is the worst feeling in the world, Peter, trust me, and you should be very grateful that you've never had to experience it."

She finished her whiskey in one gulp and put the glass on the coffee table beside her. "That's why I believe her when she tells me that she's in love with Sean, and that she's got nothing left for Ambrose. There's not anything hiding in her heart, there's not, it's gone. I realised it when she told me that and from that moment I have been advocating that she leave Ambrose, regardless of whether or not Sean will have her, although I was very pleased tonight when I saw that it looks like he will. I do, however, intend very soon to have a strongly worded conversation with him to make sure that he agrees to treat her well."

"You're a fearsome friend."

"Yeah."

"Thanks for telling me that, I… I'm sorry that I accused you of being…well I dunno what I was accusing you of exactly, but being…inappropriate in any way. I don't think you're inappropriate in any way and I'm sorry I yelled at you."

Assumpta nodded, but didn't feel quite able to return it yet. "I have a problem with…things regarding religion and marriage. It's because of my childhood, it pushes all the wrong buttons for me. And I need to know that you're not – regardless of whether you believe me or not that she doesn't love him anymore, I mean, I've told you why I believe that but it's up to you whether or not you believe it, and I don't mind if you don't because that's up to you, but…it bothers me that you might be wanting to save this marriage for religious reasons."

"I can see that, and let me assure you that I'm not. I'm approaching it purely as a friend. As a friend, I saw the look on Ambrose's face tonight and that's what made me angry. I've only ever known Niamh and Ambrose as a couple and I thought they were great together. I want them to love each other because I want my friends to be happy."

Assumpta nodded. "I guess it's harder for you because you're friends with both of them. You're being pulled in two different directions."

"Yeah. And…. Doesn't it bother you, though?"

"Well, yeah! They've got tough times ahead. And now!"

"No, not that. That's…just them. Doesn't it bother you more broadly?"

"What? To realise that not everybody walks off into the sunset and lives happily ever after? No, that doesn't bother me, I've always known that. It bothers me that my friend is one of the people that didn't happen for, but hopefully they'll both get a second chance at it."

"It bothers me. You really scared me tonight."

"When?"

Peter's voice became pleading. "Please don't leave me. Ever."

"No, I won't." Assumpta moved towards him. "What makes you say that?"

"Just the thought that people can fall out of love with people, and tonight, the look on your face, and your eyes…"

"We're different! OK, let me explain -"

"You pushed me back and you looked at me like you never wanted to see me again, like I was dead to you..."

Assumpta's face melted and she rushed to his side. "Oh honey, I'm sorry!" She sat on the arm of his chair and pulled him towards her, kissing the top of his head. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you! I was livid at you is what I was, but I didn't want to hurt you or get rid of you or – of course I didn't! You know I never stay angry for long!"

Peter leaned into her like she was water in the desert, burying himself in her shoulder. She kissed his head again. "You know I adore you, baby, I can't stay angry at you. If I say, 'Get out', it actually means, 'Go away, come back later and then hug me and kiss me and make sweet love to me.'" She squeezed him tighter and stroked his hair. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too. I love you." His voice was faint and muffled.

"I love you too." She pulled back a little. "Now look at me. I want to tell you about different kinds of love, so you won't worry about that." Assumpta flicked her legs over the arm of the chair and slid onto his lap, her knees resting on the other arm and her left hand stroking his face.

"What do you mean, different kinds of love?" he asked.

"I believe that there are different kinds of love. It's why some relationships last and some don't. Some relationships have no love in them at all, and those ones don't get very far, but some do get as far as marriage or cohabitation and there is love there, and they're happy for a little while, but then one day it all just dies. A friendship-type love might remain, but it's not strong enough to keep them together because it's only an outer friendship group-type friend love and it's only best friend love that will make a relationship last, only when you have real things in common and you understand each other – soul mate kind of love. Not every relationship has that, but unfortunately in most cases they don't realise they don't have it until it's too late, because it's not until later on that you really need it. At the start, and for the first few years – three, in this case – you have 'the spark', the lust and excitement and newness of it all, you enjoy being together and you still remember what it was like not being together so you still appreciate it. But after a while, the spark dies out, and if you don't have a strong foundation of real love to keep things going, then the relationship dies out too."

"They…don't know what they've got until it's gone?"

"No, they don't know what they haven't got until what they have got is gone."

Assumpta was looking at him knowingly, but he didn't get it. "Why is it gone?"

"Because the spark always fades, that's not the thing that lasts forever – that's why couples in their 80s are happy with long walks and looking into each other's eyes rather than humping like rabbits all the time."

"I think there are some 80-year-olds who hump like rabbits."

"You can get the spark back, but you have to work on it, and you have to have that strong foundation to be able to do that."

"So you think we're OK because we have the foundation."

"Yes, and I know for sure that we have it because we had to go through so damn much to get here. Niamh and Ambrose did not."

"Yeah."

"Everything was easy for them, and when it's easy you just sail through it without realising that you don't have the foundation. We didn't realise it either because we saw them sailing through it and we thought they were great together, but in hindsight I think that if they'd had the obstacles we had, they wouldn't have gone anywhere at all together – the relationship either wouldn't have happened, or it would have fizzled out very quickly."

"Because it's only true love that can make it through that." Peter smiled.

"Exactly! And think about it, when Ambrose asked her to marry him, she took two weeks to think about it. Two weeks! She tried to impose conditions on him, she wanted to try before she bought."

"Ah, I remember it well."

"And she's saying now that if she'd been able to do that, if Ambrose and her dad hadn't been so uptight and had actually let her live with him beforehand, she may not have married him."

"Hmm."

"Peter." She cupped his face in her hand. "When you asked me to marry you, how long did it take me to say yes?"

He smiled. "One second!"

"Less! I didn't have to think about it at all, I knew what I was going to say as soon as you took the ring out, and then I had to wait for you to finish your little speech and I couldn't get the 'yes' out quick enough. In fact, I think I said it several times!"

"Yeah, you did!"

"And we'd been together for TWO WEEKS at that point! Two weeks! What can you learn about a man in two weeks to convince you to marry him – well, nothing, but I'd fallen in love with you years before that and in that situation it's not lusty, 'you're so cute!' kinda love, it's 'you're my best friend and my soul mate, I'm gonna adore you forever even if you never even kiss me' kinda love."

Peter grinned up at her, the weight gone from his shoulders, his eyes bright and free of worry and pain. "I'll kiss you," he said.

She leaned in, and the spark fired, but it was so much more than that.


	9. Chapter 9

Niamh crept into the gard's house very early in the morning. She opened the door of her marital bedroom as quietly as she could. She looked inside. Both Ambrose and Kieran were asleep in the bed. Niamh shut the door again.

Ambrose opened his eyes, trying to come to terms with the fact that she was only getting back just now. What had she and Sean been doing?

Niamh went into the lounge room, took off her jacket and sat down in an armchair. She put the jacket over herself and a cushion behind her head and she tried to sleep.

...

Giggling, Peter and Assumpta fell onto their bed, several items of clothing already gone. Straightening himself up on top of her, Peter suddenly let out a yell.

"What's wrong?" Assumpta wore an expression of concern that only parents and partners with strong foundation love are capable of wearing.

Peter sat up and looked down at his bare knees. "Oh," he said, and began to laugh.

"What? What is it?"

"I had an argument with a police car!"

"What?"

"Ambrose was driving away and I thought it was a good idea to jump in front…"

"You idiot!" Assumpta sat up and looked at his knees. There were enormous purple bruises on both, and some swelling. "Oh, I'm gonna kill Ambrose! Are you OK?"

"Yeah. He stopped, it's not his fault."

"Not quick enough, clearly! Doesn't he know that you're a stupid idiot who jumps out in front of cars?"

Peter snorted. "No!"

"Don't laugh about it, that was very stupid and you will not do it ever again."

"OK." He grinned. "Now, where were we?"

"You idiot." Assumpta paused. "So I'm on top, am I?"

"Yep."

She was on top of him very, very quickly.

...

Donal sat on a hill chewing on a piece of grass and humming. Liam was leaning, or rather, lying, against his back, his eyes closed. Donal began to sing:

"_Seven million gallons of porter_ -"

"Oh, shut up, Donal, will ya?" grunted Liam.

"How d'you feel now?"

Liam looked like hell. "Oh God, me head's in bits."

"It was a great party last night, wasn't it?"

"No. I'm giving up the gargle."

"Ha."

"You know what it is, Donal? We're going nowhere."

"Are we s'posed to be going somewhere?"

"I'm telling ya. Things are so bad, I'm thinking of emigrating."

"To Cilldargan?"

"Cilldargan? Sure, that's only three miles away!"

"Yeah."

A kind of loud suction noise was heard behind them and the two men turned their heads. Something very large and rainbow-coloured was floating past them.

Liam became very distressed. "Oh Donal, I'm getting the DTs!"

"Well either that's a hot air balloon, or I am too!"

...

A large blue mug appeared by the head of the woman sleeping on the chair.

"Niamh?" said a voice. "Tea."

Niamh opened her eyes and looked up at Ambrose. "Thanks."

"I've given Kieran his breakfast. See you tonight."

"What time is it?"

"Eight-thirty." He paused. "You didn't have to sleep down here."

"I didn't want to wake you."

The tension was thick between them. Ambrose got up the courage to ask, "Did you enjoy yourself last night?"

"It was OK." Niamh stood up. "Do you have to go to work today? Can't you ring in sick?"

"I'm not sick."

"I know. But I want to talk to you."

"We can talk tonight. Unless you've got another party to go to." He turned and walked quickly to the stairs.

"Ambrose!"

"Kieran is watching a video, but he'll get bored with that in about half an hour, you'll need to check him."

"I know how to look after Kieran!"

He turned on the stairs. "Do you? Well at least one of us was here when he woke up in the middle of the night." He finished climbing the stairs and put his hand on the doorknob.

"Ambrose, don't walk out on me!"

"I thought it was you that was walking out on me!" Ambrose opened the door, walked through it and was gone.

...

"There's a picture of it in one of the books, I remember seeing it." Father Aiden opened the broken door of an old cupboard and took out a large leather-bound book. "This one, yes. You see, about two hundred years ago there was this balloon race from Faungloss to Knockbeg."

He found a tarnished poster inside the book and showed it to Orla. "There we go."

"L'ascent de Francoise D'argan," read Orla.

"Dargan, that's the French feller," said Donal.

"Nah, can't be the same one," said Liam. It wasn't his smartest hour.

"Might be a descendent," suggested Aiden.

"Pour le grond pricks de catrison -" Donal began.

"It's grand prix," Liam corrected.

"Heh! Formula One balloons!"

"It means a big prize," explained Orla.

"That's what the Dargan feller said," said Liam to Father Aiden. "He's having a balloon race today, for a big prize."

"And he wants you to start it," Donal added.

Aiden looked confused. "Why me?"

"You're the priest."

"Yes?"

"Yeah, everyone knows you need a priest to start a balloon race!" grunted Orla.

"Ah."

"Mind you," she continued. "There's a strong possibility he could be trying to make grand pricks out of the lot of ya!"

...

Niamh stepped out the front door of the Garda house with Kieran on her hip. She locked the door behind her and looked across at Fitzgerald's. Looking away again, she walked to her car. Kathleen, who had been sweeping the steps in front of her shop, watched her closely. "Morning after the night before?" she called.

"Something like that," Niamh replied, putting Kieran into his car seat.

Kathleen walked towards them, a look of disapproving pleasure in her eyes. "You looked like you were having a ball at Sean Dillon's last night," she said.

Niamh looked haggard, but she didn't falter. "I thought we all were."

"Ambrose left very suddenly, I thought!" Kathleen looked at Niamh curiously, probingly. "You didn't notice?"

Niamh could no longer meet her eyes. "Like you said, Kathleen, morning after the night before."

"I wish you a rapid recovery, then."

Niamh got into the car and closed the door, her heart racing.

...

The phone rang in the bedroom. Assumpta gave an irritated grunt, rolled over and opened her eyes. She picked up the handset. "Hello?"

"Just thought you should know," said Siobhan. "Niamh's left Kieran with me and she's gone to see Sean."

"Oh, right."

"I don't want to get involved in this, so I'm not going to do anything else."

"No no, that's fine, is Kieran OK with you, can you manage?"

"For now."

The receiver went dead. Assumpta replaced the handset, grunted again and rolled onto Peter.

"Who was that?" he asked.

"Siobhan. Apparently Niamh's left Kieran with her."

"Oh."

"Nice that she didn't leave him with us, gave us an extra five minutes' sleep, anyway." She closed her eyes again.

"Where's Niamh gone, then?"

"Can I go back to sleep, please?"

Peter raised his head and looked at the clock radio on Assumpta's side of the bed. "Oh my."

"Oh, what now?"

"It's ten-thirty."

Assumpta shot up in bed. "WHAT?"

...

Sean was sitting in a booth at a bar in Cilldargan, a look of worry on his face. The door opened and he looked around. It was Niamh. He stood up, and said an awkward, "Hi."

She smiled, looked behind herself to make sure nobody was watching, and sat down. There were dark shadows under her eyes.

"He knows, Sean," she said. "He saw us."

"Well what was there to see? We danced. We talked."

Someone else entered the bar and they both averted their eyes from each other until he walked away.

"And then you went home," Sean finished.

"Sean, Ambrose isn't stupid - if he saw us, he knows."

"What are you gonna do?"

"I s'pose go back and wait for him."

"Do you have to go right away?" His eyes were sad, pleading.

"What do you want to do?"

"Nothing. I just wanna be with you. I want us to go away together, and be by ourselves."

Niamh gave a tentative smile. "Let's go, then."

...

Assumpta was rushing around the bar, flicking switches and stacking glasses and hurriedly writing the day's menu on the blackboard. "Let's hope no-one orders any of these before they've finished cooking!" she said as Peter came down the stairs.

"I'm going to see Ambrose," he told her. "See if he's alright."

"Right." She didn't look at him, her eyes focussed on her hurried task.

Peter walked across the street and knocked on the door of the Garda house. No-one answered. He waited a few moments, and then he realised that the police car wasn't there.

He walked back into Fitzgerald's. His wife was no longer in the bar, but there were noises coming from the kitchen. As he approached the door, there was a thud and he heard Assumpta yell, "Ow!"

Peter opened the door to find a frying pan spinning on the floor and Assumpta hopping. Concern flashed across his face until he saw that the pan was empty, and then he smiled. "You OK?"

"Fine!" she grunted.

He stepped forward and put an arm around her.

"No no no, no time for hugs!" She grabbed up the frying pan and put it on the stove, then rushed over to the table and began hurriedly chopping onions.

"Err…Assumpta?"

"What? Why are you still standing there?"

"Most of the population of Ballyk were at a very happening party last night. I'd say that a fairly large proportion of them have woken up hungover, and there's a pretty good chance that that proportion includes absolutely all of your regulars."

She turned her head to look at him. "So?"

"So, would you want to go to a pub when you were hungover?"

"Oh."

He smiled. "Relax. Stop rushing. One injured soldier is enough around here!"

"Yeah."

"Have you got time for a hug now?"

She looked at the onions, then back at him. "OK."

He stepped forward, kissed her on the forehead and hugged her. "Now, I dunno if you know anything, but can I assume that wherever Niamh's gone, she's not with Ambrose?"

"Oh, yeah, Siobhan said she'd gone to see Sean."

"Right." Peter took this in. "He's not at home, so I'm going to look for him. Can I borrow your van?"

"Sure, the keys are over there. Only, don't dive in front of his car, either in my van or on your own!"

...

Ambrose pulled over on a patch of grass at the side of a narrow country road. He got out of the car and leaned against it.

A small voice came from within the car. "Alpha Bravo One, Alpha Bravo One, come in, please."

Ambrose leaned back into the car and picked up his radio.

"Alpha Bravo One, Alpha Bravo One, come in -" The voice stopped dead as Ambrose turned the radio off. He threw it back into the car.

He didn't even lock the car or roll up its windows, just grabbed his jacket from the back seat and began to walk along the road.

...

Two balloons flew high above the Wicklow countryside, one rainbow-coloured, the other black and white.

"Hey!" came Brian's voice from the black and white balloon. "How do you steer this thing?"

A garbled reply floated back to him in French.

"What?"

The Frenchman repeated himself.

"What did you say to him?" Donal asked.

"I told 'im to mind 'is own business'a!"

"Merci boku to you too, mate!" called Brian.

"What are we gonna do now?" Orla asked him.

"What are we gonna do, we're gonna compete!" He increased the gas and flames shot into the balloon. It jerked sideways and Orla yelped.

"Err...They're going that way," she said.

...

Peter drove around the whole of the parish of Cilldargan looking for Ambrose. To the lake, to the grotto, up into the mountains near the old mine. He even went up to Sean Dillon's place. "Ambrose!" he called across the fields. He went right up to the house, but there was nobody there. Not even Niamh and Sean were there.

...

Sean and Niamh stood in an old boathouse at the edge of the lake. Among many others like them, there were five letters carved into one of the rafters, "NQ JOD". Sean was peering up at them. "Niamh Quigley loves JOD…JOD…"

Niamh flashed him a wry smile. "Jimmy O'Driscoll."

"Jimmy O'Driscoll." Sean laughed. "I remember him!"

"I was younger then than Emma is now."

"It all seemed so easy then. Life. Falling in love."

"Falling in love is still easy." Niamh took him into her arms. "Being in love…I don't know." She pulled back and looked at him. "Why does this have to happen now?"

"What are we going to do?"

"Be grown up about it."

"Come and live with me."

The kiss was sweet, desperate, but short. She pulled away.

"Niamh." He wanted more.

"I'm sorry."

"No, I'm sorry." He let her take him into her arms again.

"I don't want to be grown up about it," she said, holding him to her as close as she could.

...

Ambrose strode down the windswept hill, and a small smile formed on his face as he saw the tiny beach below.

...

Brendan, walking alone along a quiet dirt road with his bicycle and a newly found canine companion, was most surprised to see not one, not two, but four cars fly past him and then pull up in a cloud of dirt. "What's going on?" he asked Aiden.

"Have you seen two balloons?" the priest replied.

"I have," Brendan looked above and to the right of himself, and had begun to raise his hand when he was distracted by Emma.

"What a lovely dog, what's she called?" she asked.

"Oh, we don't know her name, we think she's been abandoned."

"Brendan, where are they?" asked Aiden.

"Oh, poor thing," said Emma.

"Yeah," said Brendan. "We think they threw her out because she was pregnant."

Aiden was gazing up at the sky, his mouth open.

"All she needs is a good home, just while she's having her puppies," Brendan continued.

"Poor little dog."

"I know."

"Brendan." Aiden tapped him on the arm.

Brendan looked at the priest, then back at Emma. "Poor little defenceless puppies." He was really fishing now. "Siobhan would've taken her, but what with Aisling and the other animals…"

"Brendan," said Emma, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "We'll have her."

"Oh?" Brendan looked delighted.

"Brendan, which way did they go?" Aiden repeated.

"Over there." Brendan pointed at a large hill.

"Right," said Aiden. "Well, there's nothing for it, then. Let's go!"

He began to stride up the hill, and the motley collection of Ballykissangel residents followed him.

"You don't seriously mean we have to climb this hill?" said Siobhan.

"It's just a brisk walk, Siobhan," Brendan stated.

"Come on, everyone," said Aiden, taking off his jacket and moving faster. He ended up taking Aisling's pusher from Siobhan and pushing it himself.

"This is ridiculous," said Siobhan.

"So turn back, then," said Brendan.

"I didn't ask you."

"What do you mean, Kathleen?" asked Father Mac, bringing up the rear.

"I know people think I'm a gossip, but there was something I wanted to say about…Niamh and Ambrose."

"Oh?"

"Not being married myself, I don't want to meddle in other people's marriages…"

"Specifically?" the priest pressed her.

"I think that…things are happening between Niamh and…somebody else."

"I see them!" called Aiden from the front, where he'd almost reached the top of the hill. "Up here! Come on!" He gestured for everyone to follow him.

He was right. The two balloons were hanging very close together in the air above the hill, not moving at all.

"Monsieur Dargan," said Liam, sipping a cup of espresso in the rainbow-coloured balloon's basket.

"Yeah," grunted the Frenchman, looking through his binoculars on the other side of the basket.

"Why aren't we moving?"

The reply came in French as Monsieur Dargan began flailing his arms about. "Why aren't we moving – there is no winnda!"

Donal sucked a finger and held it up. Sure, there was no wind.

...

Ambrose was strolling on the pebbly beach in the cove. He bent to pick up a smooth rock and looked at it. Then he heard it, the voice.

"Help! Help! Is anybody there? Help!"

Dropping the rock, Ambrose turned and ran.

...

Peter had almost given up, but he just thought he'd try this one last desolate road. He'd never been along it before, but it looked suitably deserted for somebody who was feeling heart-broken and depressed to take solace somewhere along it. But then, he'd told himself that about just about every road he'd driven down so far. "Oh, why am I doing this?" he said. He wondered if Assumpta needed help with the bar. He shouldn't have left her there by herself. Not that she couldn't handle it, but…

A flicker on the dash board caught his attention. The fuel light had just come on. "Oh, God…" he said. He was so unused to driving now that he hadn't thought to fill up. "Oh no, no, no…"

Peter stopped the vehicle and began to turn around. If he was going to run out of fuel, it couldn't be here, in the middle of nowhere. But the road was narrow, so he had to do a three point turn. It was as he was on the third point that he saw it in the rear view mirror. He couldn't even tell what it was at first, but it was blue and clearly man-made, which was very unlike everything else around. Peter turned and looked through the back window. Then, with a sudden rev of the engine, he swung the van off the road, pulled on the handbrake, got out and began running towards the police car.


	10. Chapter 10

There was a knock on the door of the Garda house. Niamh, who had been in a reverie staring out the kitchen window again, turned and went to answer it.

"Only me," said Siobhan, smiling.

"Oh hi, come in," said Niamh, though she didn't really look like she wanted her to.

"We were chasing balloons all afternoon," Siobhan said as they descended the stairs to the kitchen, "and the children fell asleep in the Land Rover, so I thought I'd leave them there until they wake up again."

Not meeting her eye, Niamh nodded. "Best thing to do or they'll be grouchy all evening."

"Did you know your father was up in a balloon?"

"Is he?" said Niamh, not looking as if she'd even heard the question.

Siobhan's smile fell as she asked, "What's up?"

Niamh took a deep breath and turned to look at her. "I think I'm going to leave Ambrose."

Siobhan took a step closer. "You think?"

"I just don't know what to do."

"Well I can't tell you."

"If it was just me…But there's Kieran. And we'd have to leave the village, my dad…everything."

"You can't afford to be stupid, Niamh. Too many people'll get hurt. And most of all, you."

...

The young gard was on his knees at the cliff side, leaning far over it, telling the two trapped tourists where to climb so that they could get away from the fast rising tide. His heart was in his throat.

"Be careful – not that rock! Not there, there's a crack further down, it looks unstable! Try the one on the right, can you reach it?"

Suddenly, Ambrose looked up. He thought he heard something. It came again. "Ambrose!"

Ambrose frowned. "Peter?"

"Ambrose, where are you?"

"Peter! I'm here, Peter, help, there's two people trapped!"

Peter's tall frame appeared on top of the hill. "What?" he asked. This was not what he'd expected to find.

"Can you get my radio? I left it in the car."

"Oh…OK."

"Quickly!"

...

Niamh and Siobhan were sitting at the kitchen table. Normally, Niamh would have made tea, but…well, she had too much on her mind to think of that.

"Have you spoken to Assumpta about this?"

"Yeah, she thinks I should do it."

"She thinks you should _do it_?"

"Yeah."

"Mother of God." Siobhan stood up abruptly and was through the kitchen door in a flash. She started up the stairs.

"No, Siobhan, no, don't talk to her about it…"

"And why not? She can't be advising you to do things like that!"

"It's my decision, Siobhan - I know that Assumpta's…"

"That she's…"

"That's why I don't want you to talk to her about it because she bit Peter's head off last night when he did. I know that in the scale of advice that I could be given about this, Assumpta's is the most extreme – in fact, in most situations where there's any controversy at all, her advice is bound to be the most extreme."

"So you know that."

"Yes, I know that. And there's no point you talking to her about it anyway because you won't change her mind and she'll only bite your head off."

"Right." Siobhan turned around and came back into the kitchen. "Peter looked like he'd been more than bitten last night – he looked like he'd been burned."

"Yeah…" Niamh looked anxious. "I feel really bad about this, about causing all this trouble for the people who care about me."

"That's OK, that's what we're here for." Siobhan smiled.

There was silence for a moment as Niamh looked at her hands, steeling herself for what she was going to say next. "I think I am going to take Assumpta's advice, though."

...

Walking briskly back up the hill again, Peter frowned at the radio. He couldn't seem to find the "on" switch. He'd tried talking into it before but nothing had happened. There had been no "kchhh" noises or anything. He began to move faster.

Reaching the top of the hill, Peter was horrified to see that Ambrose wasn't where he'd left him. In fact, he couldn't see him at all. "Ambrose!" he yelled.

His heart fluttering madly, Peter waited for a response, but none came. "Ambrose!"

"Yeah?" It came on the breeze from somewhere lower down, closer to the raging sea. Peter ran towards it.

...

A small crowd had gathered on the hill below Knockbeg. The teacher and the two priests were at the front of it, peering at the two balloons which had finally appeared over the next mountain and were now crossing the valley in between. The rainbow-coloured one was in front.

"Aiden, if there isn't a finishing line, how do they cross the finishing line?" asked Brendan.

"Are you doing this on purpose?"

"I'm just asking you a question."

"Look, the finishing post is Knockbeg mountain, and there it is."

"How can you land a balloon on a mountain?"

"Look, Brendan, the finishing post is wherever I, as the official starter, say it is, and I say it's there."

Brendan turned to Father Mac. "Are you gonna allow him to carry on like that?"

"Oh, God give me patience!" groaned Father Mac.

The rainbow-coloured balloon won the race. Brian and Orla nearly drowned, but that's another story.

...

Peter's eyes boggled when he saw where Ambrose was. It could best be described as a small platform, accessed by a kind of narrow ledge covered in small rocks which looked like they weren't attached to anything at all.

"That's right, just one last climb there, then I think you'll be alright!" he was saying.

"Ambrose, what are you doing down there? Be careful!"

Ambrose turned and smiled at Peter. "I think they'll be OK," he said.

"Well that's good, because I can't figure out how to turn your radio on!"

"Oh, it's the knob at the top. Small knob."

Peter looked at the radio again. There was indeed a small knob. He turned it, and the radio crackled into life. "Oh," he said.

"Can you tell them that we need a rescue boat?" said Ambrose, still looking at the tourists.

"You really should get away from there, Ambrose!"

...

The door of the empty pub opened, and Niamh entered, Kieran on her hip.

"Ahhhh!" called the landlady from the kitchen. "At last, a customer!" Appearing in the kitchen doorway, she looked slightly disappointed to see that it was only Niamh.

"Sorry," said Niamh. "But I will buy a beer if it makes you feel better. God knows I need one."

"Where the hell is everybody?"

"Err, Siobhan said something about a balloon race."

"A what?"

...

"Well done, you've done brilliantly! Just stay where you are now, I think you're safe there - my friend here has called for a rescue boat, they'll be along soon! I'm just going to check what's happening with that, OK, and I'll have a look to see if there are any boats in the area that might be able to help."

To Peter's great relief, Ambrose moved away from the cliff edge and stood up. But before he could be safe again, he had to navigate the tiny ledge which led to the platform. The ledge hugged the side of the cliff, and Ambrose had to hold onto that as he moved his feet sideways along it.

Peter waited at the other end, holding his breath. He knelt down and brushed some of the loose rocks away with his hand. When Ambrose got closer to him he held out an arm.

"I'm fine," said Ambrose, still gripping the rock face wherever he could.

"I dunno how you got over there in the first place," said Peter.

"With difficulty."

Finally, Ambrose's body came within reach of Peter's arm, and he settled it across his back, hoping to brace him.

"It's OK, nearly there, I'm fine," Ambrose repeated.

Peter frowned, wrapping his other arm around a boulder on the other side of the cliff face.

Ambrose was mere centimetres from safety when it happened. "OK. All OK," he said, as his left foot reached for the solid land at the end of the ledge. Perhaps he relaxed too soon, perhaps he reached too far, but before either of them knew it Ambrose's foot had slipped and his body had slid down the cliff face, pulling Peter's down with it.

With a yell, Peter fell to his knees, loosing his grip on the boulder. He leaned all his weight backwards and dug whatever parts of his feet that were available into the ground as he struggled to maintain his grip on Ambrose. The fingertips of his right hand were just barely holding Ambrose's armpit, and the best Peter could do with his arm muscles was to press Ambrose into the rock as tightly as he could. He couldn't use his other arm to help because if he didn't continue to hug as much of the boulder as he could, he'd go over the cliff himself.

Ambrose was kicking, desperately trying to find a foothold while his fingers grasped helplessly at the slipping gravel on the ledge. Eventually, he got part of his left foot up onto the cliff beside Peter, moving his body upwards just far enough for Peter to get a better grip on it. At the same time, Peter pushed against his feet and knees to get his left arm back far enough to get his hand around the back of the boulder again. Taking hold of it, he pulled with all his might.


	11. Chapter 11

"Yeah, that's what Siobhan said."

"What, about leaving town? Like that's a bad thing?"

"Like that's a bad thing." Niamh's expression clearly said that she thought it quite obvious that leaving town in disgrace was, of course, a very bad thing.

"It's not a bad thing! I had a great time in Manchester!"

"You did?"

"Yeah! And then I came back! It's OK, Niamh, anything's doable."

The door opened and in walked Brendan, Father Aiden and Father Mac.

"Whahey!" grinned Assumpta. "People! Even if it is two priests."

"Give me a very large whiskey, please, Assumpta," said Father Mac, collapsing into a bar stool.

"Yeah," said Father Aiden, collapsing next to him. "Me too."

Father Mac looked at him in surprise.

"I know what you'll have," said Assumpta to Brendan, who was sitting at the end of the bar watching the two priests, grinning widely.

The door opened again and more balloon race observers began to pour in. Assumpta and Niamh were both busy for a while getting them all drinks and food.

"This just about makes up for it," Assumpta was saying as she put a twenty pound note into the till, when the door opened again and the noise level in the bar dropped suddenly as everyone regarded the newcomers, who were rather noticeable because they were wearing bright orange Coast Guard jumpsuits.

"What can I get ya?" said Assumpta, her eyebrows only slightly raised.

The three men stepped up to the bar, regarding Assumpta and Niamh with great interest. "Mrs Clifford and Mrs Egan?" said the one in the middle.

Assumpta's heart started beating very very fast. "What's happened?" she said.

The man who'd spoken threw up his hands. "Oh, no, no, no, they're alright! They're alright!"

"Oh, thank God," said Assumpta.

"They're alright," said the man on the right, "Because – hang on, which of you is which? Mrs Egan?"

"That's me," said Niamh.

All three coast guards grinned at her. "Wonderful man you're married to!"

"He's brilliant."

"A real hero!"

"Do you know what he did?"

Her eyes on Niamh, who didn't seem to be taking this well, Assumpta butted in. "Umm, can I get you boys some drinks?"

"Oh yeah, three pints of stout, please," said the middle guard.

"Mine's lager," said the left guard.

"Oh." The middle guard winced.

"He's from Dublin," said the right guard.

"So that's two stouts and a lager, then?" said Assumpta, and began pouring the drinks.

"Mrs Egan," the right guard began again.

"Call me Niamh."

"Niamh! Lovely name. Today, Niamh, your husband saved the lives of two tourists who were trapped on some rocks beneath a cliff, and the tide was rising fast and they thought they were going to die and -"

"And _your_ husband," said the middle guard, pointing at Assumpta.

"Helped," said the right guard.

"Yeah, he helped," the middle guard continued, "He put in the radio call to the gards, they alerted us AND THEN -"

"It was very dramatic," said the left guard.

"It sounds it," said Assumpta, beginning to look slightly bored.

"THEN – and we saw this, we were just arriving -"

"And trust us, it was VERY dramatic -"

"Gard Egan almost fell off the cliff – and we saw it, didn't we, we kid you not," The other coast guards nodded. "He really almost fell, he was hanging off the edge of the cliff-"

"They were both hangin' off the cliff."

"Yeah, they both were, weren't they, they both could've gone over easy!"

Assumpta's heart was in her mouth again.

"And then Peter – that's his name, isn't it? Peter?" He looked Assumpta. She nodded stiffly. "Very nice guy," the guard continued. "I was chatting to him afterwards – anyway, the gard's hanging of the cliff and he's holding onto him, and we're all thinking, 'Jesus, they're goners,' and then Peter lets out this roar -"

"We could hear it from right out on the sea where we were!"

"He lets out this amazing roar and with all his might he pulls the gard back to safety – it was amazing!"

"You should've seen it!"

The whole bar had been listening, and they found their voices again after this climax and began wowing and murmuring and asking the coast guards questions about how and why and where it had happened, but Assumpta only wanted to know one thing. "Where are they?" she said.

Niamh looked down at her friend's hands and realised that the knuckles were white.

"Oh, they should be here any minute," said the middle guard, looking at the door. "They were right behind us."

Assumpta swept out of the bar in a flash, Niamh close at her heels.

...

Ambrose and Peter were standing at the door of the Garda house, Ambrose with his hand on the doorknob.

"Are you sure you don't want a drink?" Peter was saying. "There's a lot of people who'd like to clap you on the back, I'd say, and buy you one."

"You too," said Ambrose quietly.

"Nah, I just came in at the end!"

There were a few moments of silence as both men remembered why Ambrose had been at the cliffs in the first place.

"Are you OK?" Peter asked.

"Well. I'm alive, anyway. Thanks to you. That's something to reflect on."

"Well don't spend the night in the church like you did last time!"

"No."

Across the street, Ambrose saw the two women emerge from Fitzgerald's. Niamh stopped just outside the door. He thought he felt his heart stop as she looked at him.

Peter hadn't seen them yet. "Are you sure you're OK by yourself, I mean, I can-"

"What the hell do you think you were doing?" Assumpta was standing below the stoop, glaring up at them both.

Peter turned around, but he was unsure how to respond to that.

"A normal person would just stay away from cliffs, OK, just stay away from them!"

"Yeah, I know, but Ambrose found these tourists who were trapped, and-"

"I don't care what Ambrose found – actually, Ambrose, can you stay away from him? You've already run into him with your car – just how many times do you want to try and kill him?"

Unable to handle this accusation on top of everything else, Ambrose quietly pulled his door shut and disappeared.

"Assumpta, I couldn't not help him, could I?"

"Yes! You could! Just because you're wearing a ring now doesn't mean you're immortal!"

"I know I'm not immortal – Ambrose was the one who nearly fell, not me!"

"That's not what I heard."

"Well -"

"I heard that you were holding onto him, and if you'd slipped you both would have gone over!"

"Well, I didn't slip."

"Well, you didn't slip, that's all you can say, is it?"

"Oh, don't be silly!"

"Err, Peter?" Ambrose had poked his head out the door again. Peter turned to look at him.

"You should be glad that your wife loves you enough to tell you off for that. Don't argue with her." Ambrose slipped back inside and closed the door.

Niamh, who was watching all this from across the street, had heard every word. Whether that was Ambrose's intention or not she couldn't tell, but she felt a sharp pang of guilt. It was Assumpta who'd been concerned, Assumpta who'd rushed out of the bar, not her. She would be pretty unhappy if Ambrose was dead, though. She wasn't that horrible! But she was pretty horrible. She was standing here working up the courage to go and tell her husband that she was leaving him.

As she watched Assumpta and Peter embrace, Niamh thought of Sean, and she knew that it was time. She began to walk slowly towards the Garda house.

The pub door opened behind her and Brendan poked his head out. "Hey, Assumpta?" he called. "You got a barful of people wanting drinks here."

"Oh, jeez," said Assumpta, stomping back across the road. "Why did I ever come back?"

This sudden departure left Niamh standing face to face with Peter. He smiled awkwardly.

"Thanks," she said. "I know I'm not a very good wife, but…I'd really miss him if he was gone."

"You can be a good wife, Niamh."

"You're a very good friend." She patted his chest. "And a hero – thankyou."

"Do you want to talk about why -"

"Now get in there." She pointed at the pub behind her. "I think there's a lot of people who want to buy you drinks."

With a sad smile, Peter stepped aside, and Niamh walked past him, up to the front door of what had been her home for the very last time.


	12. Chapter 12

Peter walked into the bar, to be accosted by the three coast guards.

"Hey, Peter!"

"There you are!"

"We've been waiting!"

"Have a drink on me – what's your poison? Actually, she probably knows that already!" said the middle guard, pointing at Assumpta.

Nodding, Assumpta poured a pint of lager and accepted the money.

"Lager!" said the left guard. "Yes!"

"Well, he's not Irish, is he?"

"Sit down, Peter, welcome to our table."

"Where's the other one? Ambrose?"

"Oh, he…had some things to attend to," said Peter.

"I hope he joins us later, then."

"Lovely place you've got here!"

"So how long have you been married?"

Peter took a long sip of his beer. "Err, two weeks and four days."

"Two weeks and four days?"

"Newlyweds!"

"Congratulations!"

"Thankyou."

The conversation continued in this fashion, with the guards asking Peter various questions about Assumpta and the pub, and Peter trying to focus and answer them properly whilst his mind was really somewhere else.

After about five minutes, he saw Niamh walk into the pub. He watched her speak to Assumpta, saw Assumpta hug her, and then saw her collect Kieran from Emma and walk out.

"Why don't you do that, then, Peter?"

Looking back to his own table, Peter was surprised to see all three guards looking at him expectantly.

"Ah, yeah, sure," he said, standing up. "Listen, hang on a tic, guys, I'm just going to go and check on Ambrose. See if he won't come over."

"Oh yeah, bring him over!"

"Tell him we'll buy him a drink!"

"Will do, thanks, guys." He caught Assumpta's eye and nodded towards the kitchen.

Peter went through the reception door. Assumpta appeared a few seconds later through the kitchen door.

"Well?" he asked.

"That's it, she's left him."

Peter collapsed onto the couch.

Assumpta sat next to him, taking his hand in hers. "She's gone to her father's," she said.

Peter didn't say anything, so she kept talking. "Taking Kieran for now, but she said she told Ambrose she wanted to work out some kind of shared arrangement with him, like he could have him on his days off or something. Dunno how that'll work if they have to leave town, though."

Peter's eyes widened. "Leave town? Why?"

"For the same reason we had to leave town, Peter."

That thought made Peter feel even worse. Assumpta stroked his hand.

"It's such a waste," he said.

"Of what?"

"Of a relationship. A friendship. A partnership."

"It happens." Assumpta turned to look at his sad face. "You've got the whole world on your shoulders, haven't you?"

"Huh. Yeah."

"Come here." She gave her husband a long, warm hug.

...

There was a knocking on the door. Ambrose didn't look at all inclined to answer.

"Ambrose!" It was Peter's voice. Peter. Oh, alright, then. Ambrose stood up and made his way to the door, a glass of whiskey in his hand. He opened it, but not by much.

"I've just heard." Peter realised he didn't have a clue what else to say.

Ambrose only nodded.

"Can I come in?"

Ambrose paused. "Think I'd rather be alone…at the moment."

"Can I get you anything?"

The gard slowly shook his head. He was still in his uniform.

"Well, don't rely on that." Peter pointed at the whiskey. "Make sure you eat something - can I bring you some food?" It felt like a useless offering.

"No, thanks."

Peter felt like he was doing more harm than good. Ambrose seemed to be standing there patiently waiting for him to go away. "Is there anything I can do?" he said.

"You can talk to Niamh."

Not fancying his chances of Niamh listening to him, or of Assumpta being over the moon about the idea, Peter said nothing. Of course he'd do it, though. Ambrose had asked him.

"I just want to know what I did wrong," said Ambrose quietly. "I just want to know why."

"OK," said Peter. "She's at her dad's house, yeah?"

"Apparently. You can also let me know if she's really there or if she's…at Sean's."

"OK."

Ambrose stepped back to pull the door shut. He looked haggard, broken. "Thankyou, Peter," he said quietly, and then he was gone.

...

Brain answered the door. "Ah," he said. "You're pretty good at talking sense into people, aren't you – come in."

He led Peter into the lounge room, where Niamh was sitting in an armchair, her face in her hands. She looked up, and Peter suddenly felt very uncomfortable. He looked around at Brian, and realised that he had gone already.

Niamh felt equally uncomfortable. She knew those eyes could bore through her as well as an electric drill. Gentler, though. But he already knew everything anyway, so what did it matter. "Have a seat," she said.

"I'm sorry about last night."

"Did Assumpta tell you to say that?"

"No. I was out of order, I'm sorry."

"You made a good point."

"I didn't need to make it by grabbing your shoulders and yelling at you."

Niamh smiled sadly. "You were wrong, though. About it being buried in my heart. I've looked, it's not there."

Peter paused. "Ambrose -"

"Are you and Assumpta OK? I mean, she said you were, I just…"

"Yeah." Peter smiled. "We're fine."

"I'm so sorry about causing all this fuss – I don't want to make things difficult between you."

"No no, we're fine, we had a very long talk last night."

"But you don't agree with her."

Peter sighed. "No. But I understand her. And you, I think, maybe." He smiled. "I don't want you to feel like you can't talk to me because I won't understand or you think I'll judge you…"

Niamh shifted awkwardly.

"I want you to know that you can talk to me any time. I promise you that I'll listen. And I won't judge you."

"Well, you really are extraordinary. Can I get you a drink?" She made to get up.

"Ah, well, I should perhaps confess something first."

"What?"

"Actually…Ambrose sent me."

...

It was nearly the end of the night, thank God. Why couldn't they stagger themselves out a bit? Some of them come in in small groups throughout the day, rather than absolutely all of them at once at the end of the day.

"Here's to Brian!" Orla was calling as she handed out drinks. "Who also almost died today." She looked him in the eye, and clinked her glass with his.

"Where are all the heroes, anyway?" said Emma. "Peter, Ambrose, and what was the name of the man who saved you?" She looked at Orla.

"Err…Conor, I think."

"Where's Conor?"

"Don't know. Don't even know where he's from."

"It's not fair, we're all here celebrating and they're not!"

"Well let's drink to them anyway," said Brian, raising his glass again. "To men braver…than I."

The bar saluted again.

"Don't be silly, you were very brave, Brian," said Orla. "You were determined that I wasn't allowed to go and help you."

"You'd have been dragged under too."

"I probably would. So I think you saved _my_ life, Brian. To Brian!"

Tiring of the incessant toasting, the talk of people nearly dying still terrifying her, Assumpta retreated into the kitchen.

She'd nearly reached the sink before there came a soft, "Hi," from behind her.

Assumpta jumped around. "Jesus, Peter, you have got to stop doing that!"

"Sorry." He looked at her, not really having anything to say.

"Ah. You're moping, are you?"

She sat on the couch next to him and put her arms around him. He nuzzled into her shoulder. "Niamh said…that Ambrose is completely boring. She's the funny man and he's the straight man, she said, and she used to find that cute but now it's boring…"

"Niamh's not a funny man."

"No, she said just in comparison to him. She said he never challenges her…"

"Mmm. I can believe that."

"Does she need to be challenged?"

"Yes, she's an intelligent woman."

"Right. Well then I had to go and tell all of that…to Ambrose."

"Err, why?"

"Because he asked me to. He asked me to ask her what he'd done wrong."

"OK, hold on, Peter, let's go back to the beginning. When you left here, you went to Ambrose's."

"Yeah."

"And…"

"And he asked me to ask Niamh what he did wrong, so I went to Niamh's, well, Brian's-"

"And then you went back to Ambrose's?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, Peter! Are you trying to get spliced in half?"

"Well…"

"No wonder you're moping! You can't be a supportive friend to both of them when they're breaking up – you'll get ripped in two!"

"I told Niamh she can talk to me anytime."

"Oh, leave Niamh to me! You have enough on your hands worrying about Ambrose – who keeps trying to kill you, as well as being the world's biggest moper – I think you have enough on your plate already."

Peter considered this.

"Or would you not agree with the advice I'm giving Niamh?"

"It's not that. She knows what advice I'd give her anyway. I just thought she might like to talk."

"Yes, and she talks to me on a regular basis. If she talks to you she'll rip you in two – come on, Peter, this is hurting you enough already!"

Tears came to Peter's eyes. "It is hurting. I hate it."

"Oh, honey, you gotta take that world off your shoulders!"

"Yeah."

She kissed him. "Don't have the world on your shoulders. It's stupid." She kissed him again and stroked his face. "The whole world's stupid. Especially Niamh and Ambrose."

...

The next morning, Peter, dressed in a suit, knocked on Ambrose's door. He answered in pyjamas with a pretty bad dose of bed hair.

"Oh – sorry! Did I wake you?"

"Yeah, but…that's OK, come in."

"Well, I just wondered if you'd like to come to mass with me."

Ambrose looked like he'd completely forgotten that it was Sunday morning. "Oh. Oh yeah, OK. Just let me…get dressed." He wandered back into his bedroom.

They ended up being late because Ambrose took a while to get ready. They slipped into the church as the hymn was finishing and sat down at the back. Peter noted that both Father Aiden and Father Mac were up the front. He wondered what the occasion was. Or if Father Aiden had simply done something that Father Mac didn't like, and he was here to check on him.

Ambrose could see Niamh's head a few rows in front of them, sitting next to her father. He watched it steadfastly throughout the service. A flash of fair hair at her shoulder let him know that Kieran was on her lap. Kieran. What had she told him?

When it came time for communion, Peter and Ambrose were at the back of the line. Peter squeezed Ambrose's shoulder. "How are you?" he said. Ambrose only nodded, and Peter followed his eyes to where Niamh was kneeling in front of Father Mac, who had his hands on Kieran's head, blessing him.

When Niamh and Kieran stood up and turned around to go back to their seats, Kieran suddenly yelled, "Daddy!" and started running past the altar towards Ambrose. Ambrose bent down and picked him up so that he wouldn't be able to see the tears in his father's eyes.

Niamh had stopped still and was staring at them. Peter forced a smile, and so did she. Then she turned and rushed back to her seat.

Peter and Ambrose had their communion, and Kieran got blessed a second time. They began walking back up the aisle to their seats, but Kieran stopped where Niamh and Brian were sitting and, naturally assuming that his daddy would be sitting with his mummy, led Ambrose into the same row. Peter tried to defuse the situation by sitting between Ambrose and Niamh. He felt like he was the knife cutting the atmosphere, only it was so thick it couldn't even be cut, and had got stuck somewhere in the middle.

...

Assumpta heard the bar door open and close, and looked at her watch. "Ah, they're here," she said to Fionn. "Bang on time…Very on time!" She put down her book and walked through to the bar.

"Sorry, it's only me again," said Niamh, moving quickly through to the kitchen.

"And why would that be a problem, Niamh? Tea?"

"Yes, please."

"So why the long face? I mean, apart from the obvious."

"Saw Ambrose at the church."

"Ah."

"Kieran ran over to him, dragged him over to sit with us."

"Ooh. Tricky."

"Yeah."

"And as said Kieran is now not with you, then…?"

"He was sitting on Ambrose's lap and I just left him there, I wanted to get out of there as fast as I could. What am I doing going to church, anyway – I'm committing the world's greatest sin."

"Pretty sure that's murder."

"Oh, well, one of them, anyway."

Assumpta placed the tea on the table and sat down. "All sins can be forgiven," she said kindly.

Niamh raised an eyebrow. "Are you preaching now?"

Assumpta grimaced. "I think Peter's rubbing off on me."

The door opened again and a soft chatter began to fill the bar as the churchgoers poured in. Assumpta looked at the door, considering getting up and deciding against it. "I'll wait for them to call me," she said. "I always did find it rather strange that when they leave church, the first thing they do is go to the pub. I mean, I know mass is pretty boring, but…"

"You shouldn't complain."

"Oh, absolutely not, no!"

"Do you need any help today?"

"From you? Always." Assumpta smiled.

...

"That's fine, Ambrose," said Brian. "Since she's the one who ran off, I don't think she'll have any problem with you keeping him for today."

Ambrose and Peter both winced at the terminology.

"Has she said anything to you?" Ambrose asked.

"Not much." Brian bent down. "I'll see you later, Kieran! You're going to stay with your daddy today, so you can see your granddaddy and mummy later, OK?" Brian gave Kieran a hug and a kiss and disappeared into Fitzgerald's.

"Are you gonna be OK?" asked Peter.

...

Father Mac entered the bar through the accommodation door, and made his way over to Niamh, who was serving a glass of diet cola to Eamonn. "Can I have a word with you, Niamh?" he asked quietly.

Niamh looked at him anxiously.

"It's OK, maybe we can just have a quiet stroll together, by the river?"

"You will do no such thing," said Assumpta, striding over and positioning herself in between Niamh and Father Mac.

"This is none of your business, Assumpta," said the priest.

"Oh, and is it yours?"

"No, but if Niamh would like to have a chat to me, it is entirely up to her…" He looked at Niamh, his eyes gentle, but insistent.

"OK," said Niamh.

"Niamh, no!" Assumpta looked horrified.

"It's OK, like he said, it's my decision."

"You know what he's gonna say!"

Niamh went into the kitchen and picked up her jumper.

"No no no, Niamh, you don't understand, this man is a pro, he will make you wish you'd never been born -"

"Your decision, Niamh!" called Father Mac sweetly.

Taking a deep breath, Niamh stepped out from behind the bar and began to follow Father Mac out of the pub.

"I'm serious, Niamh! Don't do it!" But Niamh was gone. Assumpta slammed her hand angrily onto the bar. "God, why does nobody ever listen to me!"

"Do you think God knows that, Assumpta?" joked Brendan.

"What's going on?" asked Peter, appearing beside him.

"Oh, what do you think? She's just fallen for it!" Assumpta stomped into the kitchen and slammed the door.

"He probably does," said Siobhan.

Peter looked around in confusion.

"Intercession of the Church, Peter," Brendan explained. "As of now, _you_ are walking on eggshells – you'd better watch it."

...

Father Aiden found Ambrose and Kieran by the river looking at the stones. He watched them from the bridge for a few moments, then went down the steps and along the river bank. Ambrose looked up, then down again.

"How are you, Ambrose?" asked the priest.

"OK."

"What's, err… What's the situation? Father Mac only told me this morning."

"Father Mac, eh? I suppose everybody knows now."

"He's talking to Niamh at the moment, actually, he's hoping to…talk her round."

"That'd be nice."

"But either way, it seems to be pretty clear that there are things you need to work on in your marriage."

Ambrose shook his head and put his face into his hands.

"Would you like to come for counselling? The two of you."

"Father," Ambrose looked up. "I'd rather not talk about this when my son is here."

Father Aiden nodded awkwardly. "Right. OK. Well, you know where I am. And you're welcome any time. Day or night."

Ambrose didn't reply. Father Aiden turned and walked slowly back along the river bank.

...

It was well past lunchtime before Niamh came back into Fitzgerald's. She came in through the accommodation door, and walked slowly to the kitchen. Assumpta was the only person who noticed. Bracing herself, she opened the kitchen door and went inside.

Niamh was sitting at the table, staring at her hands. She looked up.

"How bad was it?"

Niamh nodded. "Maybe I should have taken your advice."

Assumpta sighed. "Tea?"

"Yeah."

Assumpta put the kettle on, and sat down opposite Niamh. "What did he say?"

Niamh was still staring, thinking over it all in her head. It was a few moments before she spoke. "I'm a really bad person."

"No, you're not. You can't help what's happened."

"But it happened because of me. I was working all the time, I never had time for them."

"Them?"

"Ambrose and Kieran."

Assumpta rolled her eyes. "You're a wonderful mother, Niamh, but you can't be expected to do only that. It's not the 19th century any more. Of course you wanted to work, and you have a right to do that – before that you were completely dependent on Ambrose, and that's no situation for an intelligent young woman."

"I don't think Father Mac sees it that way. I'm sure he'd love it if I was a diligent housewife."

"Yeah, of course he would, because he's a chauvinistic old prick – what do you want to listen to him for?"

Niamh suppressed a giggle. She could always count on Assumpta to cheer her up. "Well, yeah," she said. "OK, but… Unfortunately, he is the local authority on religion, and I know you're not the person to talk to about this but it does really bother me, the thought that I made those vows in the presence of God and now I've just -"

"Yes, and you were serious about it, and that is a serious process, that's why we have it, but we're only human beings, there has to be an exit clause somewhere – I once vowed that I'd become an actress, but things change, you can't stick to everything!"

"Obligations are under-rated in today's world."

"Is that you talking or Father Mac?"

Niamh was silent.

"Niamh? That was his word, wasn't it? Obligations! Bloody duties and obligations – that's bullshit, Niamh, don't you think that 'Because I should' is a stupid reason to stay in a marriage? Do you think that a relationship held together by solely that is going to work? No, it's not - you can live in the same house for that reason, but you can't have a relationship for that reason – you'd fight and resent each other and be ridiculously bloody miserable, and then half the time you'll hate each other so much that you won't even be able to talk to each other, and what do you think all that'll do to Kieran, huh?"

"He talked about Kieran a lot."

"Oh God." Assumpta grabbed Niamh's hand, and held it tightly. "PLEASE, for heaven's sake, Niamh, listen to _me_ and only me on that one! Staying together for the sake of the child is the worst thing you can do, PLEASE take my word for it, Niamh, don't even glance at his arguments – I am the only person in this town qualified to make statements on the best thing for a child in the situation of a marriage breakdown!"

Assumpta stopped, breathing heavily. Niamh gingerly reached out to put her free hand on Assumpta's, in doing so getting it to lessen its grip on her other hand, which was really starting to hurt. "OK," she said. "I won't listen to Father Mac's arguments about Kieran. Ambrose, though. I just feel so guilty."

"I know, it's horrible when you have to break somebody's heart, but you can't help it! You can't help how he feels any more than you can help how you feel!"

"But he feels how he's supposed to feel towards his wife! I don't know what's wrong with me that I don't but I should, and I used to, maybe I can try to again because if I don't I am such a horrible, horrible person…"

Assumpta was shaking her head violently. "No. No, you're not, and what kind of priest is he for getting someone in his pastoral care to feel like that?"

"He just wants me to do the right thing. I'm a good person, I always do the right thing!" Niamh's voice cracked. "I thought I was a good person!"

"You are!" Assumpta came to sit next to Niamh and put an arm around her. "Nobody's perfect!"

"If I go to hell, I will thoroughly deserve it." Niamh broke down, and Assumpta wrapped her arms around her.

"I can't believe he said that. Would you go to hell for killing a priest? If so, I'll be right there with you."

Niamh wept for some time. Assumpta tried to say reassuring things whenever she thought of them, but she couldn't seem to help. Bloody Father Mac.

Eventually, the sobbing ceased. "Maybe you should speak to Peter about this," said Assumpta. "He can talk about the religious side of it a lot better than I can. He'll tell you you're not going to hell."

"You reckon?"

"Yes. I promise. And maybe you can ask him what's in the seminary text books about how to deal with women who want to end their marriages – this is all stock standard stuff, Father Mac's been saying it since before you were born. It's not at all specific to your situation."

"Really?"

"Yep. Trust me. Only, I have to ask, please, can you only talk to Peter once? Just go easy on him, because he's finding this very difficult because he's friends with both you and Ambrose, so he's being pulled in two different directions. Please be gentle with him, don't pull him…anywhere. And don't ask him to give messages to Ambrose or anything – just on the religious thing, he's the best person to talk to. Just talk about that."

"So I'm hurting him too, am I?"

"Oh, no, sorry, it's not your fault!"

"Peter, Ambrose, Kieran, you -"

"Oh, don't be stupid – what about you? You're the one who's hurting!"

"- Dad, Siobhan, Sean, Emma…" The tears flowed over again.

"Oh, Niamh. Do you know what it is, it's because you've been so hopelessly good for the rest of your life. You've done so much good stuff that God is saying, 'Hang on, this woman has too much good karma – we'd better get her to do some bad stuff!'"

Not even humour worked. Niamh was sobbing her heart out again. Bloody Father Mac.

...

Sean stepped into the bar at around four, and all heads turned towards him. He smiled awkwardly. "Assumpta," he said. "Have you seen…"

As he spoke, Niamh came out of the kitchen carrying two plates of sandwiches.

"…never mind," Sean finished.

Niamh nervously put the sandwiches down on the bar. "Hi," she said.

"Hi," Sean replied.

Assumpta gestured wildly towards the kitchen, trying to get them somewhere where they wouldn't have an audience. They took her up on the offer.

Assumpta collected the sandwiches off the bar and placed them in front of Michael and Brendan. "Jeez, you guys," she said. "Can you keep your eyes to yourself next time?"

"It's not you anymore, Assumpta," said Brendan.

"What isn't?"

"Ballyk's most controversial couple."

"Oh! How terrible!" She gave Brendan a sarcastic look, and he laughed into his pint.

...

Sean looked into Niamh's eyes. "I waited for your call," he said.

"Oh. Sorry. Things have been a bit mad today."

"Ambrose?"

"No, he's been OK, actually. Just…people."

"Yeah," said Sean. "Things have been a bit mad for me too."

There was silence for a few moments.

"Mind if I give you a hug?" Sean asked.

"I don't know, Sean. Can you give me some time?"


	13. Chapter 13

Ambrose and Kieran were coming back from the river, a picnic basket in Ambrose's hand, when they ran into Brian and Peter, who were sitting on one of the benches outside Fitzgerald's, talking quietly.

Kieran ran over to his granddaddy. "We're having sausages tonight, aren't we?" he said. "Daddy didn't know."

"Oh yeah, I did say that, didn't I?" Brian looked awkwardly at Ambrose. "Have you got any sausages?"

"Err…no."

"Can you get some?"

"Can we make sausage soldiers?" the little boy continued. "I want to show Daddy how."

The adults looked at each other. "How do you make sausage soldiers, Brian?" asked Ambrose.

"Err…It's easy, I'll show you how." He stood up. "Oh, but you haven't got any sausages." He turned to Peter. "Have you got any sausages in the pub?"

"I don't think so…"

"Never mind, we'll use a carrot for now, and then I'll go and get some from my place."

Ambrose held up his hand. "Don't worry, Brian. You can have Kieran tonight."

"Err, no no, that's OK, I can bring those sausages down here as quick as a flash -"

"It's fine, Brian. Niamh probably thinks he's with you, anyway."

"Aren't we having tea at Grandaddy's?" Kieran asked.

"It's OK, I'll…go and ask her," said Brian, and he disappeared inside the pub.

...

Niamh and Sean were just coming out of the kitchen. Brian frowned at them. "Niamh, can I have a word with you about Kieran – _you_," he pointed at Sean, "stay where you are, Ambrose is outside!"

The accommodation door opened and Father Mac came in. Assumpta stretched an accusing arm towards him. "You're barred! Get out."

"What?" said the priest.

"You heard me." Assumpta strode around the bar towards him, and her eyes meant business. "Until further notice, you are not welcome in this pub – get out." She grabbed hold of the door and held it open for him.

"Why?"

"Why? Because you made my friend cry, and you made my mother cry." She pushed him through the door and slammed it shut.

...

Brian, Ambrose, Peter, Niamh and Kieran all sat around the dinner table at Brian's house. Conversation was incredibly awkward. Everyone focussed on Kieran, but Ambrose's eyes kept wandering to Niamh. Peter wasn't really sure how he'd ended up there. Kieran had seemed to want him to. Ambrose had seemed to want him to. Maybe even Niamh had. He wasn't sure.

Peter and Niamh washed up together. Brian smoked a cigar and tried to talk to his son-in-law, but he didn't get very far. Soon, Ambrose put Kieran to bed. He took a very long time about it.

"I hear Father Mac had a talk to you this morning," Peter said, as Niamh dried some plates.

She only nodded.

"Are you OK? He's not the most tactful of men."

Niamh smiled half-heartedly. "I don't think he was trying to be tactful."

"What did he say?"

"Well, Assumpta seems to think it's part of the Priest 101 course, so she thinks you should know already."

"Fair call."

"It is part of the Priest 101 course?"

"Yep. Think of your vows, duties, obligations, you're a good person, don't fall from grace, think of your parents, think of your child, God has blessed this union, he will provide…"

"What about it being a sin?"

"Well, yeah, obviously. There's volumes on that."

"And hell?"

"What about hell?"

"Father Mac said something like, 'Turn down the path of darkness now, and you may end up following it a lot further than you'd bargained for.'"

"Blimey, he sounds like Darth Vader!"

Niamh managed a chuckle. "So that's not in Priest 101?"

"No, that's just Father Mac. He comes out with these archaic things sometimes, it always amazes me. Perhaps you should talk to Father Aiden instead – I mean, if you do want the opinion of a priest, that is. He trained much more recently, so his views may be more…up to date."

"Up to date? I wasn't aware that God updated his policy on divorce."

"Well no, that's still a sin, but in a time where it's becoming more and more common, the Church needs to have a more flexible approach to it. Counselling, for example – not ignoring problems. Have you tried that?"

"Father Aiden did mention that."

"Oh, good."

"So, do you think…any sin can be forgiven?"

"If you confess and repent for it, yes. If you can't repent, just confessing is still good, though."

There was a pause. "Just confess, eh?" said Niamh.

"Yeah." Peter pulled the plug out and began draining the sink, wiping it with a cloth as he did so.

"The problem with all these priests, though," said Niamh, looking at him for the first time, "is that they don't understand about Sean."

"What do you mean?"

"About how I feel about him. They've never been in love."

"Give them a chance! They might have."

"What, you think Father Mac joined the seminary because his girlfriend dumped him?"

Peter laughed.

"No, I don't mean that, not normal courtship. I mean loving someone that you're not allowed to love." She looked him in the eye.

Ambrose appeared at the door. His eyes were red. "I'm off," he said to Peter.

"Right, I'll follow you out."

Ambrose turned on his heel rather abruptly and was gone. Peter grabbed his coat and made to follow, but Niamh called after him. "Wait, Peter! There's something I wanted to say."

"Yeah?"

"Make sure you look after Assumpta," she said. "Keep an eye on her."

Peter frowned. "Any reason in particular?"

"Did you hear she barred Father Mac?"

"Yeah, your father mentioned it."

"Did you hear why?"

"Well, because he had a little chat to you. Not that that was disruptive to the bar in any way but, well…"

"As she was kicking him out, he asked why, and she said, 'Because you made my friend cry, and you made my mother cry.'"

"Her mother?"

"So obviously Father Mac had similar chats to Assumpta's mother – I don't know the details, I wasn't friends with her back then, but I think, well, I've sort of become aware today that this whole situation could be bringing up unhappy memories for her, and I feel awful about that, I didn't realise…"

"There's some things…that are buried pretty close to her heart, I think, yeah."

"She mentioned the effect on the child today too. She said she's the only person I should listen to about Kieran, because she's the only one who knows."

"Good point."

"Which makes me feel even more awful about Kieran, I mean, what I'm putting him through."

Peter smiled, and put a hand on her shoulder. "Go easy on yourself, Niamh. You're not a bad person. Just make sure you give yourself plenty of time to think."

Peter emerged from the Quigley house five minutes later, only to find that Ambrose had already driven away. Putting his hands into his pockets, Peter walked out into the night.

...

"I think it's wrong," Eamonn was saying.

"Oh, well good for you, Eamonn!" said Assumpta indignantly. "Another person who's never been in that situation judging from afar and thinking they know everything."

"Fair point," said Brendan. "What right have we to say anything at all?"

"You've got to be careful, though, Assumpta," said Siobhan, "in what you say to Niamh."

"Oh, I've got to be, have I?"

"I'm not saying don't advise her if she's asking for your advice, but…You've got to let her make up her own mind."

"She has made up her own mind!"

The door opened and Peter walked in.

"Ah!" said Brendan, glad of the chance to steer the conversation in a new direction. "And how was the most awkward family dinner of all time?"

"Pretty awful," Peter replied.

"You shouldn't have gone," said Assumpta.

"Well, it wasn't that bad, it was just awkward, like Brendan said."

"You just said it was pretty awful."

Peter realised that Assumpta looked quite haggard too. "But life's not awful, is it?" he said, giving her a smile.

"That depends on the day," she grunted.

"You just take it day by day," said Eamonn thoughtfully.

"Can I have another, please, Assumpta?" said Brendan. "Or Peter, for that matter."

Siobhan was looking at him in horror. "Oh, so _you're_ the one staying out, are you? Again." 

"What?"

"It's past Aisling's bedtime!"

"Well you never told me you wanted _me_ to take her to bed!"

"Children have two parents for a reason!"

"Oh, jeez, just put her down upstairs, then both of you can stay!" said Assumpta.

"Then I'd have to move her again later," said Siobhan.

"Oh, fine, both of you leave, then!"

"Why both of us?" said Brendan.

Assumpta put her head in her hands. "Oh God, could you just leave your arguments at home, please?"

"Fine!" Siobhan picked up Aisling's basket and walked out without saying another word.

"Thanks, Assumpta," chuckled Brendan. "Can I have my pint now?"

"You're really horrible sometimes, you know that?" Assumpta stormed into the kitchen.

"Peter, can I have a pint please?" asked Brendan.

"Err, hang on, Brendan." Peter disappeared after Assumpta.

Brendan threw up his arms. "Shall I get it myself, then?"

...

"No," said Assumpta when Peter came into the kitchen. "Get back out there and get me a bottle of wine, and kick everybody out."

"You want to close early?"

Assumpta closed her eyes. "No. Just a fantasy I had."

"OK, I'll finish up, you go upstairs."

"I guess we could close. There's only, what, five people out there?"

"It's only nine."

"What? Nine? You're kidding me!"

"I know. This day has felt incredibly long."

"It's only because other people keep having issues – there's nothing wrong with us, we should just go away again!"

"So…do you want to close?"

"No…Money, Peter, money, money!"

"OK, so you go upstairs and I'll -"

"Or how about we both just stay here and share a bottle of wine."

"If you're here don't you still feel like you're at work, though?"

"It's not work that's the problem." Assumpta collapsed onto the couch, and looked back up at him. "Bottle of house white, please, barman."

...

"I helped myself," said Brendan, as Peter emerged from the kitchen.

"Ah." Peter looked guilty. "Sorry about that, Brendan – would anybody else like anything?"

"No thanks," said Eamonn. "I'd better be going."

"How about you, Frank, Bill?" Peter called to the two old men who were sitting in the corner.

"No thanks, Father, we'll be heading off now too," said the stouter of the two, standing up.

"You know you're not supposed to call me that anymore?"

"I know, sorry, Father," said the man as he and his friend left.

Peter looked around at Brendan, who had an amused expression on his face. "Ah, you'll always be tarred with the same brush, won't you, Father?"

"Yeah, can you not do that? It makes me feel really…weird."

Brendan chuckled. "What, now that the transition is complete?"

"Fully complete, yeah, these things shouldn't be confused. Especially seeing as I," Peter said, opening the bar fridge and taking out a bottle of wine, "am now going to do this." He grabbed two glasses and headed back to the kitchen door. "Are you right to continue helping yourself? I'll put it on your tab."

"Oh come on, you're not gonna leave me out here on my own?"

"Sorry, it's not worth staffing the bar for one person!" Peter quickly ducked back into the kitchen and closed the door.

"I wish Padraig was here," said Brendan, taking a lonely sip of his stout.

...

"Just how long are you gonna take to think about this?" said Brian, stepping up to the window his daughter was looking out of.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you're welcome to stay here as long as you want, but…don't you think you should go back?"

"I've already had plenty of people tell me that today, thankyou Dad."

"And how many people are telling you the opposite?"

Niamh didn't reply.

"One, I'd say."

...

"Here you are, madam," said Peter, pouring a glass of wine and handing it to Assumpta, then pouring his own.

"Why thankyou, good sir."

"No, I'm only the barman, you don't have to be polite to me."

"I should think you do! People who aren't polite to the barman get barred."

Peter sat down silently. Assumpta found herself instantly wishing that she hadn't brought up the topic of barring.

"So what was the problem tonight? Everyone seemed…shirty."

"Everyone? Oh good, it wasn't just me."

"Yeah. What were you talking about before I came in?"

"Three guesses."

"Aha. And people have differing opinions on it."

"Yeah. There's people, and then there's me."

"Ah."

"I wish Padraig was here, he'd see things differently."

"Because he has personal experience of it?"

"Yup. Without him it's just me – that's how backward this town is, it is just me."

"What, you mean divorced people?"

"Yeah."

"You're not divorced."

"Oh, same difference."

"Big difference."

"So you're saying there's _no_ divorced people in Ballyk? God, poor Niamh."

"There's plenty of divorced people in Ballyk!"

"Like who?"

"Mrs McGinty!"

"Well if she still calls herself Mrs McGinty she can't be a very good divorced person – who's she?"

"She works in the bookshop in Cilldargan. Lives the other side of the river."

"Oh."

"And then there's Alice O'Connell, you must know her."

"Is O'Connell her married name or her maiden name?"

"I don't know. She's not much older than us, though. Single mother, three kids."

"So it's all women, then. That's even worse, nobody ever listens to women."

"Yes they do, I listen to women."

"You, Peter, are not the remotest bit like most men."

"Oh, stop feeling sorry for yourself! This isn't even about you – were people having a go at you?"

"No, but…"

"No."

"But nobody agrees with me because nobody has a clue what it feels like – you don't either, I know you don't agree with me – you haven't said it because you don't want to fight with me, but -"

"Hey, hang on – what are we talking about exactly here? Agree with you on what?"

"That Niamh should leave Ambrose!"

"Ah." Peter looked away.

"See, there you go, you don't agree with me, Siobhan doesn't agree with me, Brian doesn't agree with me -"

"Come on, Assumpta -"

"- Eamonn doesn't agree with me, and now, thanks to Father Mac, not even Niamh agrees with me!"

"Come on – what?"

"She _actually_ listened to him, he actually had her questioning herself - I dunno where she's at now, but she is still at Brian's, right?"

"Yes."

"She hasn't gone back?"

"No, we had a super awkward family dinner and then Ambrose went home alone -"

"Oh, thank God."

"Assumpta!"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I know that's horrible for him, and I have nothing against him, but honestly, he can take it up with Sean if he wants – she can't help how she feels."

Peter breathed in and out. He had many things he wanted to say but couldn't.

"Yes, fine, you be quiet, that's probably best, isn't it – I'm just venting my spleen, I'm sorry, I don't need you to say anything."

"Well…If it bothers you that people don't agree with you then you're gonna have to be more tactful."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well nobody could agree with, 'Oh thank God Ambrose went home alone!'"

"That's not what I meant!"

"Well what did you mean, please tell me!" Peter took hold of Assumpta's hand and began stroking it.

"What are you doing that for?" she said.

"To let you know that I'm not angry with you. I don't agree with you, no, but I'm trying to understand."

"Oh, you're trying to understand – what am I, a problem child?"

"No, I -"

"That's it, isn't it?" Assumpta's eyes lit up suddenly. "That makes perfect sense! That's what I am, that's all I've ever been – the problem child!"

"No you're not, just tell me."

"Tell you what?"

"Well, to start with, tell me what you meant. Why did you say 'thank God'?"

"I didn't mean 'thank God Ambrose went home alone,' I meant, 'thank God Father Mac hasn't won again.'"

"Again?"

"Yes, again, he always wins, no-one ever wants to disagree with Father Mac."

"A lot of people respect him."

"He commands respect, he expects it, and I am the only person who refuses to give it to him – the only person! I said to Niamh, I said, 'Don't go with him, he'll make you wish you'd never been born, just DON'T go!' but oh no, she went, didn't she, and she came back saying, 'Maybe I should try again with Ambrose' – I dunno how he does it, he must have a magic wand or something!"

"So, umm…"

"What?"

"So…this isn't the first time you've seen this happen?"

"No it's not the first time, he's done this hundreds of times - any time a woman or a man in the Parish of Cilldargan remotely considers that maybe their marriage isn't working – I was lucky to escape it myself, come to think of it – I guess he does know how to pick his battles, but any person who is even the slightest bit religious is not safe from him."

"The talk isn't about religion, though, is it, it's about caring for the people you love – duties and responsibilities, like you said -"

"There's plenty of religion in there, and anyway, because it's coming from a priest, if you're religious, you have to listen."

"Niamh can think for herself, though."

"Oh, I hope she can, I hope she's strong enough! You don't, obviously."

"OK, look – can we forget about that, please? You don't have to focus on it -"

"On what, the central core part of this issue, the part that we fundamentally disagree on?"

"Yes we do disagree on it, but let's agree to disagree, OK? I don't want to fight about this. I understand how you feel, do you understand how I feel? Why I disagree?"

"Because you're religious."

"No, because I'm friends with Ambrose! With both of them!"

"Yeah, but -"

"No buts, that's why! Can you please stop focussing on the religious thing – yes I have beliefs as well, but you know I can look past them – if I couldn't, you never would have given me the time of day, would you?"

For the first time throughout the exchange, Assumpta was speechless.

"Would you?"

"No."

"OK. So can we talk about this without involving religion, please."

"Yeah, but religion's the whole point of it, religion's the thing that everything revolves around -"

"Can we talk about it without involving my religion?"

"Yours personally?"

"Yeah."

Assumpta sighed and leant back on the couch. "OK."

Peter took both her hands in his. "Look at me."

Assumpta reluctantly turned her head, but found herself unable meet his eyes.

"Are you angry with me?"

"No."

"Well I'm not angry with you either, why are we arguing, then?" He pulled her into a hug. "Are you angry at the world?"

"Yes. I'm sorry, it's just hard when I'm the only person in town who thinks this way."

"You're not the only person. I know you're not." Peter kissed her head. "I think you're the most intelligent person in town."

"What, because I can see through all the bullshit?"

"Yeah. You think for yourself. No-one should follow blindly."

"Can I have you as my husband and my parish priest?"

Peter laughed. "No. I thought we settled that one."

"I know, but it'd be nice."

"I never would have made parish priest, anyway."

"Yes you would."

Peter snorted.

"You would!"

"OK, Pope Joan can I ask you a question?"

"Yes."

"Why did you bar Father Mac?"

Assumpta looked away. "Do you disagree?"

"No. It's your decision, I support it, I'll even enforce it!"

"Seriously?"

"Yeah! I don't think it should be forever, but to make a point, to take him down a peg or two – yeah, fair enough."

"OK, I think I need you to be the bishop. You need to be his boss."

"Just one problem with that."

"What?"

"You can't shag the bishop."

Assumpta cracked up.

"I'm serious! You can't lead the bishop astray!" Peter's face lit up as he watched her laugh.

"Yeah, OK, eww, bishops, let's change the topic now!"

"That's what you just did, I'm trying to ask you a question." Peter's face became serious.

"What question?"

"Why did you bar Father Mac?"

"Because he's a prick who thinks he can interfere in other people's lives and, worse, he thinks that's OK, he thinks he has a moral obligation to do so."

"And you've seen him do this before."

"Yes, hundreds of times!"

"Niamh said that…when you kicked him out, he asked you why, and you said, 'Because you made my friend cry, and you made my mother cry.'"

"Yes. He did."

"What did he say to your mother?"

"Exactly the same stuff. He's a genius – he says it and they'll listen. He said it to my father too, only he wasn't quite so much of a pushover – well…no, I guess he was, actually. You see, no-one who is even the slightest bit religious is safe."

"So what did he do? Did he take them aside, for a walk or something?"

"With my mother usually he'd barge right in here and have tea with her. Only it wasn't barging, because she was only too happy to have him, every single bloody time, and when I got old enough to realise what was wrong I said to her, 'Why do you listen to him? Do what you want to do, not what he wants you to do!', but she wouldn't listen to me! She wouldn't listen to Dad either – she'd only listen to a bloody priest who's never been married, never shared his life with another person, never had a child – someone who doesn't have a clue what he's talking about, and yet somehow everybody always listens to him."

"Why did your mother listen to him if he made her cry?"

"Because she was religious! Painfully so, so much so – you know that shelf above the cash register? She used to have a Mother Mary figurine there, she put candles next to it and everything – the first thing I did when I took over the place was rip the bloody thing down! Her whole life it watched her, judging her, and then when Father Mac came in, she…Well, she didn't have any choice, did she?"

All Peter could do was put his arm around her. "I'm sorry."

"Priests don't realise how much power they have over people."

She looked him in the eye, and he realised she was right. He awkwardly shook his head. He'd never realised that before.

"And now I can see Niamh doing the same thing, listening to him, buying into the guilt, getting confused and upset - I think she even fobbed Sean off before."

Peter took a breath. "Maybe we – all of us, maybe all of us should…just leave her alone for a while. It's obvious that she's thinking about this very hard, and she's an intelligent woman, she's highly capable of thinking it through properly and reasoning for herself the best thing to do. You've told her what you think she should do, I've told her what I think she should do, and Father Mac's told her, and Sean and Brian and no doubt several others, but it's not up to us, it's not even anything to do with us, it's her decision. I don't think there's any more we can say, anyway, because she's already heard it all. So I think we should leave her alone, just…let her think for a while."


	14. Chapter 14

The sun rose over Ballyk, bathing the landscape in a soft orange light. The light trickled through the gaps at the edges of the curtains in Niamh's childhood bedroom. Niamh lay on her side, watching it. She hadn't slept a wink all night.

A rooster crowed. Kieran sighed in his sleep.

Niamh closed her eyes.

...

The phone rang, and it seemed very loud to the slumbering couple.

"Oh, not again!" groaned Assumpta. She picked up the receiver and grunted a sleepy "Hello".

There was no reply.

"Hello?" Assumpta could vaguely hear breathing on the other end, but there was no reply. "You better not have just woken me up so that you can say nothing at all, what do you take me for? You'll be sorry the next time I see you, whoever you are!"

Peter leaned across her to take the receiver. She checked out his naked chest as he did so, then lay looking up at him as he spoke.

"Hello?"

Finally a voice came. "Oh, Peter…Peter, hi."

"Ambrose?"

Assumpta rolled her eyes.

"What's up, Ambrose, are you OK?"

"Yeah…well, no…well, I have a problem, I was wondering if you could help me."

"Sure, anytime."

"Well it's just that…well, I got a call from my mother just now and she's coming over – apparently her friend died and she's upset and wants to see me, so I couldn't say no, could I, but I just don't know what to do because…she doesn't know, and…"

"What time's she coming?"

"Ah…around three, she said."

"OK, well, that's still a few hours away, there's no reason to freak out. I'll be over there as soon as I can."

"I'm meant to be working today! She's expecting Niamh to go and get her from the bus station and -"

"I'll go and get her."

...

Brian gave Kieran his breakfast, poured himself a coffee and stood staring out at the kitchen window, a familiar frown on his face.

The phone rang. Brian turned slowly and went to answer it.

"What's the news, Brian?" said the voice on the other end.

Brian sighed. "I dunno, Frank, I don't know."

"Is she still there?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"And I don't know, she never says anything, but I think you really upset her yesterday so would you mind not speaking to her again - she knows what she should and shouldn't do, I think that's what's bothering her so much."

...

Emma sauntered downstairs at half past eleven.

"What time do you call this?" grunted Sean from his office.

"At least it's still morning!" Emma went into the kitchen and switched on the kettle. "Would you like some tea?" she called.

Sean didn't reply. He was staring at a notepad, doodling half-heartedly with his pen. Deciding something, he got up suddenly and moved purposefully to the door, where he ran headlong into Emma, who spilt hot tea over both of them. Emma shrieked. Sean yelled. "Emma! Watch where you're going!"

"Me? Me watch where I'm going? You're the one who wasn't looking, you were staring out the window!"

"Yeah, well, this is _my_ office, OK, I'll do what I like in it!"

"Well sor-ry for making you tea! I just thought I'd be nice, you don't have to return the favour!"

Sean looked at his daughter. "Sorry."

"What's wrong with you at the moment, anyway?"

He looked at his watch, then back at Emma. "OK," he said, "Come on." He moved into the kitchen and sat down at the table, gesturing for her to do the same. "I have something to tell you."

...

Father Mac stepped into Fitzgerald's at half past twelve, hoping for some sandwiches, but trying not to hope too much.

The landlady looked at him in enraged surprise. "You've got some gall crossing that threshold," she said.

"Oh, come now, Assumpta, you can't have been serious yesterday!"

"Oh yes I was, I was deadly serious. Get out."

"I am a long term paying customer!"

"Bully for you." She opened the door.

With a sigh, Father Mac stepped back through it, resolving to have a word with Peter at his earliest opportunity.

...

Peter stood at the Cilldargan bus station, occasionally shifting his feet and looking at his watch. A bus pulled up in front of him, and the first passenger off it was a red haired woman he knew all too well. She looked at him in mild surprise, and then broke into a smile. "Well, hello! It's young Kieran's godfather! How are you, dear?" She leant forward and kissed him on the cheek.

"I'm fine, thankyou, Imelda, how are you?"

"Oh, I can't complain – a little birdie told me that you got married recently!"

"Yes, I did." Peter smiled.

"Congratulations!"

"Thankyou!"

"Are you here to get me, or…?"

"Err, yes, yes I am."

"Is Niamh busy today? Oh, I'm sorry – she is always very busy, I really should have spoken to her before I booked the bus."

"Well, don't worry about that, Imelda, err…would you mind, can I buy you a tea or coffee? There's something that we need to talk about."

...

Sean stepped into Fitzgerald's, and the chatter inside immediately stopped. Sean felt his ears burn. He knew that meant they'd all been talking about him. He took a quick glace around the bar. No Niamh. "Err, Assumpta," he said, stepping forward. "Can I have a word with you?"

"Sure," she replied. "Kitchen?"

"You look like you need a pint, Sean!" said Brendan.

"Err, maybe later," said Sean, as he stepped through the reception door.

"Tea?" said Assumpta, moving over to the kettle.

Sean looked taken aback. "Oh. Thankyou."

Assumpta filled the kettle and put it on the stove. She turned around to find Sean still standing in the same place, staring at her. "Sit down," she said.

"Yeah." He awkwardly pulled out a chair and sat down on it. "Umm…I just…well, I wondered if umm…if you knew or could tell me what Niamh's thoughts are…or plans, or…"

"She hasn't spoken to you?"

"Well it doesn't help that she's staying at Brian's – he seems to be trying his hardest to make sure that I don't get anywhere near her."

"Ah."

"Have you heard from her?"

"I haven't today. It's the first day she hasn't come in here."

...

The green van pulled up outside the Garda house, and Peter and Imelda got out. "I'll just have a talk to them both – if we can get them to talk to each other, I'm sure that'll do the trick." She looked thoughtfully at Peter as he heaved her suitcase to the door. "I know these things happen in marriages sometimes – not often, but…they do happen." She gave a nod, as if she'd settled the issue in her mind, and walked up the steps. "Oh dear, Ambrose doesn't seem to be home. Do you have a key?"

"Yes, he leant me his, hang on." Peter rested the suitcase on the top step and pulled the key out of his pocket. "Are you sure you're OK if I leave you here?" he said, as they stepped through the door.

A few doors along, someone was watching them.

...

"If you love her, pursue her, is what I would say. She was sure of her decision two days ago, it's just that once it became public she got blindsided by all the people who disagree – which is a lot of people, let's face it, I think you and me are the only ones who don't. And they've all been on at her and on at her, including Father Mac, who's a pro at using the guilt treatment to convince women not to leave their husbands – you need to cancel him out, just get in there and remind her of what she was feeling on Saturday."

"And how exactly do I 'get in there'? I mean, what do you suggest?"

"Well if Brian won't let you in, just barge past him! It's not up to him who she sees, it's up to her!"

"Yeah, but it's not just him. She asked me yesterday to give her space."

"OK, so be tactful, but don't stay away! All 'give me space' means is 'go away for a little while and then come back'!"

"You think 'a little while' is up already?"

"Yeah, just go, Sean - if she won't see you let me know and I'll talk to her, but I think that's highly unlikely."

Sean nodded. "OK. OK, yeah. I'll go and see her."

"Off you go, then!" Assumpta stood up and cleared away their mugs. She opened the kitchen door, and saw Brian standing at the end of the bar talking to Siobhan. "Ooh, Brian's not home!" she hissed to Sean. "Now's your chance!"

"Thanks, Assumpta," said Sean, coming out of the kitchen. "I appreciate it."

"No problem."

"Ah, Sean!" said Brian loudly. "Sneaking off with somebody else's wife now, are you?"

Sean looked like he'd been slapped.

"Oh, thankyou, Brian, you always manage to say such eloquently stupid things," said Assumpta.

"Where are you off to, Sean?" Brian asked.

"Home," Sean replied. "Anywhere but here." He strode out of the bar.

"Whiskey, please," said Brian.

"Don't think I won't bar you," said Assumpta, fixing Brian with a glare, but she turned and began to pour his drink as he asked.

"It would be very much against your interests to do so. You've already barred one highly respected patron and you're not doing yourself any favours by it, I wouldn't be surprised if you found yourself at the wrong end of a boycott."

"A boycott? Oh, don't be ridiculous, Brian!"

"Not from me, for now," said Brian, handing her a note. "But I know exactly what you're doing and so does anyone with two eyes in their head, and for my part I will kindly ask you to leave Niamh alone and let her think for herself."

Assumpta looked shocked, offended and incredulous all in one. "WHAT?"

...

Peter emerged from the Garda house to find himself face to face with Father Mac. The priest was standing below the stoop, looking directly at him. He seemed to have been waiting for him.

"Oh, hello, Father," said Peter awkwardly. He'd known this was coming. "How are you?"

"Oh, a little hungry and thirsty, but I can't complain."

Peter, electing not to reply to this comment, began to cross the road.

"And how are you, Peter? How's married life?"

"Very good, thankyou." Peter was making a beeline for the blue door, absurdly grateful that for the first time he had, in fact, a Father Mac-free haven.

"Really? Not a bit…stressful, at all, is it?"

Peter turned in aggravated surprise. "No! No, thankyou - other people's marriages are a bit stressful to me at the minute, but my own is quite wonderful, since you ask!"

"Oh good, then you'll be able to help me." Father Mac fixed Peter with a gaze he found disturbingly hard to break.

"Help you with what, Father?"

"With my problem of being a little hungry and thirsty."

"Well, I'm sure you can feed and quench yourself at places other than Fitzgerald's, Father! I'd help you if I could, but I live above."

"That's not my point. As the landlord, I'm sure you have the ability to lift a barring."

"That's honorary landlord."

"Oh, that's what she calls it, is it?"

"No, that's what we both call it. I'm not the licensee."

"No, but since you do have, as you put it, a 'wonderful' marriage with the licensee, then…"

"Barrings aren't my department, sorry."

Father Mac frowned. "Oh really. And you'll also wash your hands of Niamh Egan's wanton destruction of her marriage, is that right?"

"No, Father, I won't, but that's a separate issue, and using such aggressive terms to describe it is hardly going to help the situation."

"Aggressive? I don't think I am the one who's being aggressive here! I am trying to prevent two young people from committing a mortal sin!"

"So am I, Father. And I won't criticise your methods if you don't criticise mine. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go."

Peter turned on his heel and escaped into the safety of Fitzgerald's. Father Mac sat down on one of the blue benches in frustration, a sour expression on his face.

...

Niamh sat on the couch, watching Kieran playing through the garden window. A mug of tea was going cold in her hand.

There was a knock at the door. Niamh ignored it, as she'd been ignoring all knocks and phone calls all day. She stood up and went to tip the tea out in the sink.

"Niamh!"

She froze. It was Sean's voice.

"Niamh, are you there?"

The voice was coming closer. He was coming round the side of the house.

Niamh turned and looked through the glass doors. Kieran was playing with his toy truck. She saw Sean kneel down beside him.

"Hi Kieran, how are you?"

"Good."

"That's a pretty nice truck you've got there."

"Yeah."

"Is your mummy around? I'd like to speak to her." As he said it, he heard one of the glass doors click open behind him. Kieran pointed, and Sean looked up. "Hi," he said.

...

"Oh, there you are, love!" Ambrose's mother pulled him into a hug, trying to bury him to the best of her ability. She pulled back and smiled at him. "How was your day?"

"Fine. How are you?"

"Oh, fine, fine." Imelda began serving some stew that was simmering on the stove.

"I'm sorry about Florrie."

"Well, my dear, she had a good long life. The funeral's on Saturday, if you'd like to come."

"Sure, yeah. Umm, hang on, I'm just going to get changed."

Ambrose took rather a long time doing so. Mostly he was just sitting on his bed, staring at the wall and wondering what on earth he was going to tell his mother. Eventually, there was a sharp rap on the door.

"Ambrose! Tea's ready!"

It reminded him of when he was in school. How much simpler life had been then.

...

Niamh, Sean and Kieran were walking in the fields above Brian's house. Kieran ran ahead, waving a stick like it was a sword.

"You don't want to be with him, though, do you?" Sean dreaded the answer, but he had to ask.

Niamh remained silent, and Sean found that even worse than hearing the answer he didn't want to hear. "Two days ago you were sure," he pressed. "At least, you seemed sure…"

"Yeah, I know. It was all a lot easier before everyone else found out about it."

"But what matters is what _you_ think, not what everyone else thinks!"

Niamh nodded. She stopped walking and looked out across the valley. Then she chanced a glance at him. "I don't know what to say to you, Sean, really. Everything you're saying is true, and no I don't want to be with Ambrose, but… I've been backed into…no, I've backed myself – it's my fault, I've backed myself into a corner and the only person who can get me out of this corner is me, but I don't know how to do it, I don't know which way to go. It's just so much more complicated than I realised, and… It's not only what I think that matters, you are wrong about that. There's what Kieran thinks, what my dad thinks, what Peter thinks…It is important, these are people whose opinions matter to me a great deal…"

"What about what Assumpta thinks?"

"And what Assumpta thinks, yes, she has some very good arguments, but am I just saying they're good because they're what I want to hear? Anyway, I don't know about that, but I know that I'm thoroughly sick of people telling me what to do. I just want to sit somewhere by myself for, I don't know, days and days, and just think about it until I know what to do. The problem is that all these people who are telling me what to do – they're all making good arguments and they are thinking of my wellbeing, but they're all saying what they're saying for their own reasons – none of them can be objective, they've all got major emotional things pushing them to give the advice they're giving me, you because you want me to be with you, Dad because he's worried about Kieran and about me, probably, but also because he doesn't like you, that's gotta be having an effect on it; Peter because he married us and he wants us to get along and he likes to think that he can make that happen somehow; Ambrose because I'm hurting him; Assumpta because she's been hurt in the past by similar situations and she thinks that because of that she knows everything about my situation and what will work for me just because it worked for her – do you see how much stuff is running around in my head, Sean? I can't even trust the people who are trying to help me because I just keep thinking, 'Why are they saying that, can I be _sure_ -'"

"But isn't that confusion just because different people are saying opposite things? People were always going to oppose this -"

"Yeah, I know, of course I know that, I… Oh great. Now I look like a complete idiot who didn't foresee that."

"No, you're not an idiot, Niamh."

"I didn't say I was, I said I looked like one."

"I've put you into a very difficult situation. I'm sorry."

"No, it's…" Niamh sighed. "It's not you, I was… It takes two."

"We didn't do anything, though, really. Your marriage isn't ruined, if you want to go back to it."

"You think so?"

...

Another night went by, and a day. Imelda knocked on Niamh's door. Father Aiden knocked on Niamh's door. Siobhan knocked on Niamh's door. But she didn't answer. She knew she had to figure it out on her own.

It was evening by the time Ambrose knocked on Niamh's door. He didn't really want to be there, but his mother had insisted. Anyway, he and Imelda had had Kieran that day and somebody had to take him back. Well, that was what Imelda had said.

"Why don't you stay here too, Daddy?" said Kieran, as they stood on the doorstep. "Then I wouldn't have to go back a lot."

Ambrose couldn't reply.

"Don't answer it," said Niamh to her father.

"It'll be Kieran," he replied, his tone strong. Niamh shrank back into her bedroom as he opened the door. "Ambrose," he said, his tone gentle. "Come in."

...

"Have you seen Niamh?" asked Assumpta when the pub finally closed for the evening.

"No," Peter replied. "I hear she's not seeing anyone."

"You think that's good?"

"Yes, I do. We're all giving her different advice. It's too confusing."

"I just thought she might have called…or something…"

"She needs time to think."

...

His stomach was clenched and his heart was fluttering. It felt like the agonising moments when he'd tried to get up the courage to talk to girls he liked in high school. It felt just like the first time he'd talked to Niamh, the first time he'd asked her out, their first date, when he'd asked her to marry him… Such a familiar feeling, but so different now. Finally, he came out with it.

"Ah, Brian, do you mind if I have a chat to Niamh?"

Brian turned around, his whiskey glass halfway to his lips. "Of course not. She's your wife, Ambrose."

"Well, yeah, I just… Yeah."

"I'll put Kieran to bed, don't you worry about it."

"OK, thanks." Steeling himself, Ambrose walked down the hall and knocked tentatively on Niamh's bedroom door.

She looked awkward, surprised to see him. She'd probably thought it was Brian knocking on the door. Her hair was messy and she wasn't wearing any make-up. She didn't say anything.

"Err, sorry, you probably thought I was Brian…"

"No, I knew it was you." Brian didn't knock like that.

Ambrose suddenly found his mind to be completely blank. All the things he'd been rehearsing in his head all day to say to her, the things he'd said to the mirror last night, the things his mother had told him to say, they'd all just gone. "How are you?" was all he could manage.

Niamh raised an eyebrow, then lowered it again. "I'm beginning to forget how, 'I'm fine, thankyou' feels like."

There was silence as both of them looked anywhere but each other. "And how are you?" Niamh continued.

"Pretty bad, yeah." He wanted to joke and forget the whole thing. To have her laugh, fall into his arms and kiss him. Would she?

She was still standing at the door to her room, not opening it any further than she had to. Not wanting her husband in her room. Her husband, who felt like a stranger to her. "Would you like to go and sit down?" she asked, seeing that he didn't seem to be going to leave.

"OK."

She led him down the hall.

"My mother's here at the moment," he spluttered. "She sends her love."

"Oh, thanks." Not wanting to go anywhere near Brian and Kieran, Niamh took Ambrose out the front door and around to the outdoor furniture. She assumed he must have something to say, because she sure as hell didn't. She sat down silently, and he followed suit.

She wasn't saying anything. That must mean she wanted him to say something. Right, yes. Yes, that was why he'd came, wasn't it. "Umm, Niamh…" The fluttering wouldn't go away. "Niamh… I've come here because…Well, I wanted to see you, and also because I missed you and also because…" His heart began to thud. "Because I've heard that you're not with Sean at the moment and so I wondered if maybe you'd changed your mind."

Niamh stared at the table. This was it, she thought. This was all she'd needed. For him to ask her. He was asking her to come back, which meant that she must have left, that had actually happened… It was real. And now here was this blumbering nervous man at her side, his blue eyes searching hers for any sign than his worst nightmare was not real. It was her fault that he was living his worst nightmare. She would just have to live with that.

"No," she replied. "No, I haven't changed my mind."

Ambrose looked away, his eyes burning. The flutter died and was replaced by a rock crushing his heart.

Tears came to Niamh's eyes too. This was it. Definitely this time. "I'm sorry, Ambrose. I didn't mean to hurt you. But I can't help how I feel. Not just for Sean, but for you. I can't do this anymore."

Ambrose made a strangled gasp, and she thought he didn't want to cry in front of her, so she got up and left, patting his head as she passed him.

When he heard the door click shut, he broke down.


	15. Chapter 15

Father Aiden left his house as early as he could force himself to, but it really wasn't very early because he was dreading what he had to do. It was 10:30 by the time he got to the door of Fitzgerald's.

He stopped still and stared at it. He wasn't even sure if it would be open. The bar wasn't open yet. Why would the door be open?

"Oh, hello, Father!" called Kathleen from across the street.

"Hello, Kathleen!" the priest called back nervously. He looked at the door, and then back at Kathleen. Why had Father Mac wanted him to come before Fitzgerald's was open? "Get her on her own," he'd said. But surely it made no sense – Assumpta would just be annoyed to be disturbed that early.

Kathleen was watching him with a knowing look on her face. "Going to try to talk her round, are you?"

Father Aiden nodded awkwardly. "Something like that… but they're not open!" Thinking he'd found the perfect excuse, he stepped away from the door and began to walk towards Kathleen. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard the door click open behind him.

Aiden saw Kathleen smirk darkly, and, with dread in his heart, he slowly turned around.

"Ah, hello, Aiden!" said Peter brightly, beginning to sweep the street in front of Fitzgerald's.

Aiden let out a sigh of relief. "Hello, Peter." He looked back towards Hendley's and realised that Kathleen had gone. He stepped falteringly towards Peter instead.

"And how are you, Father?" asked Peter.

"Not bad, thankyou. Yourself?"

"I can't complain!" The ex-curate grinned.

"Umm…" Father Aiden took another step towards Peter, and then stopped again.

"Is there something I can help you with?"

"Well, umm… It's just that…Father Mac wanted me to ask yourself and Assumpta about…" The priest lowered his voice. "…the barring."

Peter's smile fell. "I've already spoken to Father Mac about that."

"Oh! Oh, sorry, I… I didn't realise."

"You mean he didn't tell you."

"Well, h-he…No."

Peter went back to sweeping. "He's a very persuasive man, Father Mac." He gave the curate a look, and they shared a moment of empathy. Father Aiden smiled awkwardly.

"The only person he can't persuade," Peter continued, "is Assumpta. And the only person who has greater powers of persuasion over me than him…is Assumpta. So, sorry, I can't help you."

"Right." Aiden nodded. "Right. Don't worry, I didn't expect to get very far anyway."

"Ah, but did he tell you to talk to me, or to her?"

Father Aiden grimaced. "To her."

"Well she's getting ready to open up at the moment, you couldn't have picked a worse time. Why don't you come back later?"

Father Aiden nodded. He knew he'd been right. "OK, thankyou, Peter."

"No problem!" As he watched Father Aiden stride back up the street, Peter wondered whether he'd be the go-between for the rest of his life. Nodding to himself, he swept the last piece of dirt away and went back inside. Yes, he thought. He probably would.

...

"You know that what you're doing is wrong," said Father Mac. It wasn't a question, it was a statement. "I know that you don't necessarily believe in Christian codes of ethics, but you are a sound person, you have a sense of basic right and wrong."

Sean continued sanding his new fence pickets. He didn't look up.

"You know what's right and what's wrong, don't you, Sean?"

Sean snapped. He slammed down his sandpaper and spun around. "Yes I do! And I don't need you to tell me!"

"Then why are you doing this?"

"I'm not doing anything at the moment, I'm giving Niamh space!" Sean swept up the pickets with force and strode over to the hole in the fence. He bent down and began hammering them to the cross pickets.

"She's a good woman. If you care about her at all, you'll let her do the right thing."

"What, spend the rest of her life in an unhappy marriage? Do you think that's the best thing for her?"

"Sometimes…we fail to appreciate what we've got. We all complain about the bed we lie in, but it never fails to support us and keep us warm. Ambrose Egan is a good man who has always treated his wife well, and you do him a great injustice if you think otherwise."

"I'm not saying that, it's just that -"

"And you are also a good man who wants to do the right thing, don't you, Sean?"

"Yes, I want to do the right thing by Niamh, and as soon as she tells me what that is, I'll do it!"

...

Niamh saw the black sedan parked in the clearing at the end of the drive, and her heart jumped into her throat. She quickly turned her steering wheel to the right, and her car bumped through the trees to the back corner of the house, where it collided with a rather large gorse bush. Grimacing at the sound of scratching paint, Niamh revved the engine and the car bumped past the bush and came to a rest behind the house. She quickly turned off the engine and hoped against hope that Father Mac hadn't heard all that.

Emma had heard all that. Frowning, she walked from her bedroom to the back window in her father's room. She opened it and looked out.

"What are you doing?"

Niamh jumped and looked up. "Shhh!" she hissed. She stepped up to the side of the house and peered around the corner.

"If you want to hide, you can come inside," Emma whispered. "The back door's open."

"No, thankyou, that would be even worse," Niamh hissed, jumping back behind the house as Father Mac's car began to move away.

"Emma!" came Sean's voice from the front door. "What on earth are you doing?"

"I'm talking to your girlfriend!" Emma called back.

"Emma!" Niamh hissed.

"What?" said Sean. "Where are you?"

"It's OK, Niamh," he heard her say. "Father Mac's gone now, you can come inside."

Sean rushed to the back door and opened it. Niamh looked at him abashedly. "I don't believe it," she said. "I'm hiding from a priest!"

Smiling, Sean looked at the car. "How on earth did you get that back here?"

"Don't ask." Niamh pushed past him and into the house. "Can I have a cup of tea, please?"

...

"So she's just thinking it over, is she?" said Michael, slicing into his piece of pub lasagne.

"I think she just feels too ashamed to come out of her house," said Brendan. "Honestly, the busybodies in this community, the way they make people feel…"

"Hear hear," said Assumpta. "I don't know why I ever came back."

"Oh, no, don't go away again, Assumpta!" protested Brendan. "We need you here!"

"We need Peter too," said Michael. "If he'd been here, maybe he would have spotted the problem early enough to fix it."

"Oh come on, give him a break, he's not a miracle worker!" said Assumpta.

"No, but he is good at spotting when things aren't quite right, you know? He'll make a brilliant social worker, I look forward to working with him."

"What, so you're saying that this is all his fault for not being able to 'spot it' from the other side of the Irish Sea?"

"And he was there because of the same damn busybodies!" declared Brendan.

The door opened, and in the doorway stood Father Mac.

"Oh, Jesus – get out!" Assumpta strode around the bar to the door. "What part of 'you're barred' don't you understand?"

"I'm not in the bar, Assumpta," said the priest smoothly.

"Well you're also barred from the doorway, and from the benches outside, and from hassling my husband about it – get lost!"

"May I have a word with you, Assumpta?"

"Why would I want to have a word with you?"

"Well I wondered if you could tell me whether it was on your account that your friend Niamh has gone to visit Sean Dillon?"

Assumpta stared at him, and a smile began to form on her face.

"You don't care about the church, Assumpta, but she does. If she marries him, she'll be as good as excommunicated!"

Assumpta continued to smile. "Those sort of archaic rules only change when people have the courage to stand up to them! But no, it's not on my account, Father. I haven't spoken to her for three days."

...

"Oh, hello Father – I mean Peter, sorry dear!" Imelda swept open the door and ushered Peter inside. "Thankyou for coming. You might be able to get some sense out of him – he won't say anything to me, and Niamh won't even see me – I've been over to that house three times now and she won't even answer the door, and Brian doesn't know anything either – oh, I'm at my wit's end!" Arriving at the kitchen, she picked up a tray of food and pressed it into Peter's arms. "He's still in bed," she said. "He won't get up. He won't say anything. I was hoping you might be able to at least get him to eat something – he'll waste away like that!"

Agreeing, Peter turned to take the tray to Ambrose's bedroom, but Imelda kept talking. "I feel like it's all my fault because I convinced him to go and see Niamh last night, I thought if they just got talking again…! Well, I don't know what happened, but it wasn't what I'd hoped – I hope I haven't made it worse, I just don't know what to do, you know, I -"

"It's OK, Imelda," said Peter. "It's better not to force these things. I'll take him his food, but I can't force him to talk."

"Oh well, you know best, you're studying these things. Your wife said you were at the library this morning, were you?"

Peter nodded. They'd arrived at the bedroom door. He turned the handle, which had the effect of getting Imelda to stop talking and go back to the kitchen.

The room was dim. The curtains were only half drawn. Ambrose was in the bed, still in his pyjamas. He lay on his side with his back to Peter.

"How are you, Ambrose?" said Peter.

There was no reply.

"Are you asleep or are you pretending to be asleep? Fair enough if you're pretending to be asleep – that may be the only way to get your mother to stop talking to you!"

"I never realised before how annoying she is," said Ambrose, opening his eyes but not moving. "But I don't want her to leave because then I'd be alone."

Peter moved to sit on the side of the bed. He held the tray out to Ambrose. "Are you hungry?"

Ambrose turned to look at the food. "Yes," he said, and sat up. Peter placed the tray on his lap.

"Thanks."

For a while Peter just let Ambrose eat. He seemed hungry. "So you haven't got up even for a wee today?" Peter said.

"I do need to do that, actually," Ambrose replied. "I just can't bring myself to get out of bed."

Peter looked at his friend and saw that the light had gone out of his eyes. He was staring straight ahead, his face expressionless. He looked like he hadn't slept a wink, despite the length of time he'd been in bed.

"So what happened last night?" Peter asked.

Ambrose looked down at his tray, focussing his attention on the mug.

"Did you talk to Niamh?"

Ambrose nodded.

"What did she say?"

"Nothing, really. The same as she'd already said. It just felt more final this time."

...

"Assumpta, have you spoken to Niamh?" said Peter as he re-entered the bar.

Assumpta looked at him in irritated incredulity. "Why does everybody assume that I have? You know I haven't, I told you twenty minutes ago that I hadn't…!"

"I meant…since then…"

"Since when has whatever Niamh does been down to me?"

Peter looked around the bar with a startled expression on his face. He realised that all the regulars were staring at them, so he nodded in the direction of the kitchen and disappeared through the open door. Assumpta followed, and he waited until she'd shut the door before he spoke.

"I didn't say that, I just wondered if you knew what she'd decided, that's all. But in hindsight it was a stupid question because yes, you did tell me twenty minutes ago that you didn't know."

Assumpta was beginning to feel stupid. Just because everyone else was demonising her didn't mean she had to lash out at the one person who wasn't. "Sorry," she said.

"No, no, that's fine! I just wondered, that's all, because Ambrose said that he spoke to her last night and that's news to me -"

"That's news to me, too."

"- but apparently she didn't tell him what he wanted to hear so maybe she's sticking by her decision."

Assumpta was nodding. "Well all I've heard is that she went to see Sean today – I hate having to find all this out from other people, so I hope to God that whatever decision she has made will allow her to leave the house and start talking to me again."

"Yeah. Well, I'll go over now and see her, I'll ask her what's happening."

"What? Why you?"

Peter frowned, unsure how to answer this question.

"Why you? I thought we'd agreed that you would look after Ambrose and _I_ would look after Niamh!"

"We did? Well…wasn't that just on my account, cos I was worrying too much?"

"Well that's one of the reasons, but…I haven't seen her for three days, I've been waiting for you to come back so you can take the bar and I can go and see her!"

"Well we can play musical bars if you want, you can go and see her and then you can come back and tag me and I can go and see her -"

"Oh, don't be stupid."

"That's not stupid, that's…"

"Well if I go and see her then I can just tell you what she said, since all you wanted was information!"

"Well, I…" Peter gestured aimlessly.

Assumpta stared at him. Her eyes were probing. Was information all he wanted? "You don't want me to go and see her, do you?"

"You don't seem to want me to, either."

"Well I'm going to! She's my friend, and I haven't seen her for three days! Mind the bar, please!"

Assumpta stormed out, the door slamming behind her.

...

"What do you want?" said Brian, scowling.

Assumpta looked at the sky, holding it in. "Is Niamh here?"

"No. But that answer's not very helpful to you, is it, because even if she was here I would still say, 'No.'"

Fighting the urge to scream, Assumpta merely grunted and hurried back to her van. As she pulled away she realised that Niamh's car wasn't there anyway – why didn't she look for that first? Idiot. She hit the accelerator hard and headed off to Sean's.

...

"So how's Ambrose, then?" asked Michael.

"Not good," Peter replied. He lifted his mug of tea to his lips and took a sip. Then he turned to Siobhan, at the end of the bar. "Do you know how Niamh is?"

Siobhan shook her head. "No. I've been over to Brian's twice – she won't see me."

Peter nodded. "I thought she needed time to think, but…it seems that thinking hasn't changed her mind."

...

The green vehicle became visible as Assumpta's van came over a rise. Raising her hand in greeting, she pulled over at the side of the road and Niamh did the same.

"Hey, stranger," said Assumpta, settling herself against the bonnet of the van as she watched Niamh get out of her car.

Niamh smiled. "Fancy seeing you here."

"Well, it is a very small place."

"I was just coming to see you, actually."

"Oh yeah? I was just looking for you."

"Ha. Great minds think alike!" Niamh leant against the bonnet next to Assumpta. "Where were you expecting to find me?"

"Well, Sean's was the next place I was going to try. I heard you'd gone to see him."

"Oh dear, who from?"

Assumpta winced, and looked at her friend through narrowed eyes. "Father Mac."

"Oh shit, he did see me." Niamh ran her fingers through her hair.

"What, were you hiding?"

"Yes."

Assumpta snorted, and began to giggle. Niamh looked at her, slowly breaking into a smile. Then she cracked too, and they both began to laugh.


	16. Chapter 16

"Your attitude lacks strength, Father, and in these situations that is all people respond to – you have to be persuasive!"

Father Aiden wore a look which expertly expressed the lack of strength which Father Mac was accusing him of having. "How do you suggest I do that, Father?" he asked timidly.

"By not giving up and walking away, for one thing!"

"Well it seems that at the moment Niamh isn't speaking to anyone, it's not just me -"

"She's speaking to Sean Dillon! And doing heaven knows what else!"

Father Aiden swallowed. "I'm afraid I'm feeling a bit out of my depth here, Father. I have spoken to Ambrose a few times, but…"

"And who did I ask you to speak to this morning, hmm?"

Father Aiden looked at his hands. "To Assumpta."

"To Assumpta!"

"Well I spoke to Peter, and he said that it was a bad time -"

"So why didn't you go back later?"

"Well, I thought I'd try Niamh again, but I couldn't find her – I spoke to Brian for a while, and then -"

"Listen, Father, Niamh Egan is a good God-fearing woman, you and I both know that. That is why you find yourself drawn to her instead of to Assumpta because you know that Assumpta is not, and you fear that, you don't know how to handle yourself in that situation. But if you don't try, you never will know how, and in this circumstance there is no point going to Niamh without sorting out the Assumpta problem first – Niamh is a good woman and if you get her on her own, as I did on Sunday, she will listen to you, but what happened on Sunday? After she'd spoken to me she went straight in and spoke to Assumpta, who undid all the good work I'd done! There's no point treating the symptom, Father. You have to go straight to the cause."

"I can see that Assumpta is influencing Niamh away from the Church, Father, but who she is…She's never going to change that. She's never going to listen to us!"

"I don't expect her to listen to you, Father, but I can't even speak to her at the moment because she won't let me inside her pub – if we can get that sorted out then at least I'll be able to get in there and speak to her on her level, find some common ground that she identifies with!"

Father Aiden look bewildered. "Common ground?"

"Well the main common ground is Peter Clifford, isn't it?"

"What about him?"

"He may be being annoyingly obstructive at the moment, as he does have a tendency to do, but deep down he agrees with us, so if we can get him to convince her to…Even if we just get him to take her away for a while, get her out of the picture! We need to do something and you, with your defeatist attitude and your tendency to run away from Assumpta like a frightened rabbit, are not helping!"

...

Assumpta and Niamh were sitting in a bar in Cilldargan, the remains of a bowl of chips sitting between them next to an almost empty bottle of wine.

"Did he really say that?" Assumpta was asking, an amused smile on her face.

"Yeah, it was like we'd been transported back in time fifteen years: 'Niamh, are you going to talk to me? If you're not going to talk to me, I'm going to take that glass of wine right off you!' Only back then it was chocolate milk."

Assumpta laughed. "I can just imagine Brian doing that, it's just how he talks to Liam and Donal!"

"Oh yeah, well, with them you need that authoritative touch, don't you – I require a bit more respect."

"Well if he's getting you down, you can always stay with us instead!"

Niamh took a sip of her glass of wine. "I dunno. I can see a lot of people opposing that."

"So can I, but screw them!" Assumpta picked up the bottle of wine and poured the remainder into both of their glasses. "It's you that's important, not them!"

"Well, me and you."

"Yes. Me and you. And Sean as well, maybe. We need some more wine…" She looked around at the bar.

"And Peter."

"Hang on, I'll go up to the bar and get another bottle, do you want some?"

"Why not!" Niamh grinned.

...

"Are you OK, there, Peter?" Brendan asked over the top of his pint.

Peter was leaning against the back counter, staring into space. He looked around. "Hmm?"

"Oh, just wondering how you were. You look like you're brooding over something. You haven't been fighting with herself, have you?"

Peter dodged the question. "What do you think of this whole Niamh and Sean thing? I don't think I've actually heard your opinion."

"I don't have one," Brendan replied. "Though if Siobhan's asking, my opinion is the same as hers." He winked.

"Right." Peter looked away again.

"I find that's the best thing with women. Just let them think that you agree with them."

...

"I'm sorry, Imelda. I don't think there's anything we can do. Children just don't listen, do they?" Brian leaned back in his chair, bringing his mug of tea to his lips thoughtfully.

"Well, Ambrose listened to me yesterday when I told him he should talk to Niamh, but today he won't listen to a word I say!"

"Do you think he blames you for what she said to him?"

"Well, I don't know what she said to him, he won't tell me!"

"Mmm. I don't know either."

"But something's got to be done, hasn't it, for Kieran's sake!"

"I know. But Niamh is… She's a fearsome woman, so stubborn. Always has been. She does what she wants to do. And I'm thinking now… Well I don't know, it's so confusing, isn't it, with Kieran to consider as well, but… I want her to be happy, you know? And it seems that Ambrose…wasn't doing that for her."

...

"Come on, next pub!"

"Hang on, where did I put my jacket?" Niamh was looking intently at the floor around the pub armchair.

"Next pub, come on!"

"I know, I know – oh, here it is, it's on the floor." Niamh picked up the jacket and nearly tripped over the table as she walked towards Assumpta.

"This is one thing you can't do in Ballyk, go from pub to pub," said Assumpta, as they stepped out onto the street.

"Well, you wouldn't want people to do that, would you?"

"No. No I wouldn't. But I'd love it if the people from all the pubs in Cilldargan came to Ballyk." Assumpta nodded thoughtfully.

"Well maybe we should go there."

"No! Nooooooooo."

"No, let's not go back to Ballyk."

"Noooooooo."

"Can I ask you, though, seriously -"

"There it is! O'Reilly's – there's always an O'Reilly's, isn't there?"

"Is there?"

"Do you know, pub names in England are so strange. Like, the Ape and Apple and the Pitcher and Piano. So strange!"

...

Peter said goodnight to Brendan, Liam and Donal and shut the pub door. He locked it, but he didn't slide the bolts home. He looked around. His psychology text book lay on the bar. Picking it up, he went into the kitchen and sat down at the table. He might as well, he thought.

...

Recovering from a fit of laughter, Niamh's expression suddenly sobered. "Oh! Ohh. Oh."

"What?"

"Shouldn't we have called them? We forgot to call them!"

"Call who?"

"Peter and my dad! I said we should call them earlier and you said, 'Do you want some chips?'"

"Your dad is not your keeper, Niamh, weren't we just saying that?"

"Yes, but Kieran will have gone to bed now without me – shit, I keep doing that, I keep just forgetting about him!"

"Oh, he'll be fine, you wouldn't forget about him if you didn't know he was with someone who'd look after him!"

"I did that time we left him in the pub."

"Oh, that was for five minutes!"

"Anyway, what about Peter?"

"Oh, Peter, schmeter - we're having fun! I missed you, Niamh, do you know that? I really missed you!" Assumpta leaned forward and clinked her pint glass with Niamh's, spilling a little.

"I missed you too. I was going crazy, you know, it got to the point where I wasn't tossing up between Sean and Ambrose anymore, I was tossing up between Sean and nobody. And what kind of life is that?"

"Exactly!"

...

He was getting cold. It was only that that had kept him from falling asleep on top of his text book. Well, that and the worry. He sat hunched over the table, his arms wrapped around himself. He was reading the same line over and over again, and not taking in any of it. He went back to the top of the paragraph and started again.

There was a noise behind him, and Peter turned around. There was some scraping, and then he heard the sound of a key being turned in the lock. He jumped up and fairly leapt through the kitchen door.

"Hi," she said, stepping through the door and turning to slide the bolts home, which took her a bit longer than usual.

"Hi. Where were you?"

"Niamh and I," she turned, stumbling a little, "have been taking in the sights of Cilldargan."

"Sights meaning…"

"Meaning the pubs of Cilldargan, actually."

"You should have called. I was worried sick."

"Worried?"

"Yes. It's nearly one am."

"Oh." Assumpta stepped forward and took a seat at the bar. "Can I have a glass of water?"

"Sure." Peter grabbed a pint glass and filled it for her.

Assumpta took a long gulp of water. "I didn't call you because I was angry at you."

"Well, that was fairly obvious."

"Yes. Yes I was."

"How much have you had to drink?"

"Oh, jeez, you're not my keeper, Peter! And Brian's not Niamh's keeper! We can do whatever we want!"

"Yes, I know, I wasn't saying that. I was just wondering how much more water I should feed you so you don't have a headache in the morning."

"Oh. Really?"

...

"Brian, you must agree with me that something must be done," said the old priest as he sat looking out at the morning sun in Brian's garden.

"Well, I've tried that."

"Tried what?"

"Tried talking her around. She won't listen."

"Then clearly you're not applying the right methods!"

"So then I started asking myself, 'Why won't she listen? Why is she doing this thing that's hurting herself and her whole family – why?'"

"She's far from the first. But she's not a bad person."

Brian's head spun around, a frown on his face. "I know that!"

...

"I know, Kathleen, but how do I…figure out what to say?" Father Aiden threw up his arms, his eyes wide.

"She'll never listen to you or Father MacAnally. That Assumpta is a black sheep – she always was. The whole family was! Her parents didn't set her a very good example."

"Oh really? Well, perhaps if we can try to understand where she's coming from, then -"

"It's where she's coming from that's the problem. She's never fitted in here, she belongs in Dublin, or somewhere lawless like…Johannesburg!"

"Do you have any ideas, Kathleen?"

Kathleen laughed. "You want _my_ advice?"

...

Assumpta put down her coffee cup on the kitchen table and yawned widely.

"On second thoughts," said Niamh, "maybe coffee was a bad idea. I think it's making my headache worse."

"Oh, do you want some tea instead?" Assumpta asked, through another yawn.

"No, it's fine, I'll grab some water." Niamh got up and tipped out her coffee, filling the mug with water instead.

"So how's Sean?"

"He rang this morning. We're going to have a picnic later, by the lake."

"Oh good, picnics are good."

"I know, I stole the idea off you."

"Ah!"

"The funny thing was that he rang the house and Dad just passed the phone over to me, he actually let me speak to him!"

"Hmm. So Brian's realised he's not your keeper?"

"I dunno. How's yours doing, anyway?"

"Who, my keeper? I don't have a keeper." Assumpta winked knowingly.

"I know. You have a husband, though. And I do worry about him, he hasn't talked to me since Sunday."

"He's trying to give you space, he was worried that he was crowding you. That we all were."

"Well, I can see how he would worry that. You and I have created this kind of feminist anti-marriage club and he can't do anything about it."

"What? What are you on about, feminist anti-marriage club? I'm just on about you doing what you want and trying to be happy. And he wants that too, actually, he just has trouble letting go of certain things."

"Fair enough. He did marry us."

"Don't remind me."

"Are the two of you OK, though? I know I've asked you that many times, but you never seem to answer."

"I don't?"

"No. Which means you're hiding something, and I can only assume it's that you keep fighting about it."

"Well, a little bit, yeah, but fighting just leads to make-up sex, it's not a problem."

Niamh snorted. "Oh really? Is that what you did last night?"

"Maybe."

"Ha! You're joking! You could barely stand up!"

"Ah, now that's a problem for the man, not for the woman. If the man's sober, no problems." Assumpta sipped her coffee knowingly.

"Well, that's good to hear!"

"Maybe we did it on the floor of the bar."

Niamh's eyes widened. "No!"

"Meh, maybe."

"Really? Or are you joking?"

"What do you mean?"

"Oh my God, you're serious! Are you?"

"Of course I'm serious!"

"Oh, Assumpta!" Niamh began to laugh.

"What, what's wrong with that – I do own the place! I'm surprised I hadn't done that before now, actually."

"OK, which part of the floor was it? I'll try and avoid that part next time I walk through."

"It was kind of in the middle."

"OK, I'll stick to the edges."

"Haha."

"So you two are really OK, then?"

"Yeah, it's kind of annoying, really - it's like I'm annoyed with him but I don't want to be. Like, I got home last night, and the last time I'd seen him I had yelled at him so I was trying to maintain that grumpiness, but I couldn't because he's just so loveable."

"Aww!"

"Yeah, it's so annoying, I want to be angry but I can't! I get angry, but then I look at him and my heart melts, and I'm thinking, 'Dammit! I'm angry at you but I love you! This is so annoying!'"

"Oh, the dilemmas you face, Assumpta."

"And he's almost never angry at me, so I'll be there trying to rage at him and he's just standing there being ridiculously cute and loveable."

"And this is a problem for you…"

"It is! Last night I was trying to fight with him and he was like, 'Do you want a toasted sandwich?' It was so annoying! Oh, how many times have I said 'annoying' now?"

Niamh giggled. "A lot!"

"And because I was drunk I kept telling him that I love him, I couldn't control myself."

"Aww!"

"Shutup."

Peter entered the kitchen, carrying a box. "Delivery, Assumpta. Smallgoods and cheese, I think." He took it through to the pantry.

"Oh, thanks," said Assumpta. "Did you sign for it?"

"Yep. That's OK, right?"

"Yeah, they don't care who signs for it."

Peter put the food away and came to sit next to Assumpta, kissing her on the cheek.

"Don't you have work to do out there?" she asked him pointedly.

"No. There's only Brendan out there."

"Ah. Such is life."

"So how are you, Niamh?" asked Peter. "It's nice to see you, we were getting worried."

Niamh smiled stiffly. "I'm fine, thanks."

"Have you made a final decision?"

Assumpta frowned and elbowed Peter in the ribs. He merely smiled and put his arm around her as if he'd just asked Niamh about the weather.

"Yes," said Niamh, not meeting his eyes.

"You know, you don't need to hide anything from me, Niamh. I won't judge you."

"You're not going to try and talk me out of it?"

Peter shrugged. "I'd be a hypocrite if I did. It's your decision, if you're sure…That's the only thing I'm gonna ask you, Niamh. Are you sure?"

"Yes."


	17. Chapter 17

"Assumpta…" Father Aiden put his hands tentatively on the bar, trying to stop them from shaking.

"Yes, Father."

"Well…"

Peter stepped behind her, trying to nod his head in encouragement.

Assumpta frowned. "Well what?"

"Err, Father Mac would like me to ask you…how long he can expect to remain barred."

"How long?" Assumpta shrugged. "Well that depends on him, really. If he bogs off, he should be alright."

"Bogs off from…where?"

"From things that don't concern him."

"Well he, he is…concerned, as am I - he acted the way he did because he's very worried…"

"Bully for him. He can worry about whatever he likes. But as I said to him at the time, he is barred until further notice, which means until I change my mind."

Peter placed a hand on her shoulder. She felt it there, niggling at her.

"What should I tell him, then?"

"Tell him that his chances are a lot higher if he stops hassling, or getting you to hassle, Peter, Niamh, or myself."

...

Niamh stood by her car in the deserted car park by the lake. She shifted from foot to foot a little anxiously. It was a date, after all.

The red pick-up van pulled into the car park, a small cloud of dust trailing behind it. Sean jumped out. "Hi," he said.

"Hi," Niamh replied, smiling. She reached into her car and produced a picnic basket.

"Ooh!" Sean looked impressed. "Nice! I have this." He pulled a bottle of wine out of the back seat. "And these…" A white paper bag stamped, 'Reilly's Bakery'. "And these!" He pulled two plastic wine glasses out of the glove box.

"So you didn't make anything, then," said Niamh, taking her picnic basket over her arm and starting to walk towards the lake.

"Well, I'm…not really skilled at that."

"Ah."

"Anyway, Reilly's is really good, and if you can buy something as good as that, well, then there's no point, really, because anything I would make would be really bad, so…"

"Alright, then." Niamh looked up at him with a sparkle in her eye.

"So how are you, then?"

"What, since yesterday?"

"Yeah…No, umm…unpleasant encounters with anyone – Father Mac, for example?"

"No. He did see me yesterday, though."

"He did?" Sean grimaced. "You worried about that?"

"Not really. It may be a little awkward next time I see him, but…well, that was gonna happen anyway, wasn't it?"

"That's the spirit. Spurn all authority."

"You're a very bad influence on me, Sean Dillon. I used to be a good girl."

"You did not!"

Niamh looked affronted. "I did too! I went to church every Sunday – well, most Sundays. I didn't – well, I didn't always do what my father told me, but I was pretty good, or at least that's what Kathleen Hendley was telling me this morning."

They arrived at the lake and began walking along the beach, Sean skimming stones. "If you were a good girl," he said, spinning a large pebble across the water, "why were you friends with Assumpta Fitzgerald, then?"

"Leave off her, thankyou, she is a good person."

"She's a good person, yes, I know that. But," he pointed a finger at her knowingly, "a good person is very different to a good girl."

Nodding, Niamh gave a sarcastic smile.

"You can't have been that good."

"Assumpta convinced me to sneak out of the house once. Not long after I met her – well, got to know her, you don't 'meet' anybody in this town, you know them your whole life."

"I know."

"I was seventeen. It was the first naughty thing I had ever ever done – well, I mean, sure, there was that time I dug up all my mother's daffodil bulbs to use in my potato farm, and the various stubborn remarks I used to make to my father, but…well, this was a really bad girl thing to do!"

"Where did you go?"

"A party."

"Oh. Any good?"

"Yes."

"Is that where you met Jimmy O'Driscoll?"

"Shut your mouth, I did not!"

Sean chuckled.

Niamh stopped walking. "How about here?"

"Sure."

Niamh pulled a small rug out of her picnic basket and Sean spread it over the ground. "So what happened when your dad found out?" he asked, as they sat down.

"He didn't. So don't you dare tell him."

Sean laughed. "So you see, Niamh. You haven't been a good girl for a very long time."

"Maybe not."

"You've got an edge to you." He looked at her, his eyes teasing. She threw an apple at him.

Sean's face became serious as he watched Niamh pull out a plate of sandwiches and lay it on the rug. "Would you consider…doing something even naughtier than that, and moving in with me?"

Niamh didn't reply.

"Or going away with me, even for a little while…"

"I think the latter option is better, really, don't you? I wish it wasn't, but…"

There was an awkward pause. "I don't want to take you away from your home," said Sean.

"Well, I wouldn't be able to go very far away because of Kieran. And his father."

"Right." Sean chewed a sandwich thoughtfully. This was going to be really, really complicated.

Niamh turned to him, her eyes lighting up. "How about we go away now, just for a little while? Sort of a dry run, a holiday?"

"Sure."

"Just you and me, I mean. No parents, no friends, no children. No priests, no shopkeepers."

Sean was starting to smile. "Yeah, OK."

"My dad has a holiday home in County Wexford. I know where the key is – he wouldn't have to know."

"Sneak out of home?"

"Well, I might have to leave him a note saying I'd gone away for a few days and telling him to take care of Kieran…but he wouldn't have to know where I'd gone."

"Sounds brilliant." Sean grinned. "Today, you mean? Or tomorrow? I mean, I'd go right this minute."

"Don't you want to pack and say goodbye to Emma?"

"Not really."

Niamh laughed. "Well I do, so how about tomorrow morning?"

"OK, you're on."

"I'll walk up, meet you on the road. Say…seven thirty?"

"OK."

"You like to say, 'OK', don't you?"

"Well, isn't that the kind of partner you were looking for? I can diversify, I can sometimes say, 'Right' or 'Sure' or 'Yes, dear'…"

Niamh cracked up.

"I think that's a great idea, would you like some wine, dear?"

"Oh God, don't call me that, you don't want to skip the fun part and go straight to the 'dear' phase of the relationship, do you?"

Sean handed Niamh a glass of wine, and looked into her eyes. "Niamh," he said, "with you, even that would be wonderful."

...

"Imelda," said Kathleen, her face lighting up as the red-haired woman stepped into the shop.

"Hello, Kathleen," said Imelda, picking up a basket and beginning to do her shopping.

"How's poor Ambrose?"

"Oh… I'm just trying to get him to eat, really. Yesterday he never left the bed! I've asked Superintendent Foley to give him some compassionate leave."

"Right enough, poor thing. He's such a good young man, he doesn't deserve this."

"No. Well, I'm still hoping this thing'll right itself - I thought it would the other night, but…"

Kathleen stepped out from behind the counter and patted Imelda on the arm. "From the rumours I've been hearing…it doesn't sound like it will."

Imelda shook her head. She looked very troubled. "Who is this Sean Dillon anyway?"

"Oh, a bad sort, bad as they come, the whole family. None of us like them around here."

"I just thought that Niamh…well, I know she was never perfect, but I never thought she'd do something like this – I must have had her all wrong! I feel I don't know her at all now!"

Kathleen frowned. "Oh, I don't think it's her fault. She's been evilly influenced by…others. She always was such an impressionable young thing."

...

Niamh came into the house just as Brian was clearing away his and Kieran's dinner.

"Mummy!" Kieran yelled, and ran to her.

Niamh knelt down to hug him. "Hi, darling, how was your day?"

"OK. Me and Daddy and Brennan went fishing."

"You went fishing with Brendan? Did you catch anything?"

"Yeah, we just ate it but I didn't like it." The little boy looked around at Brian. "Can I have my ice cream now?"

"Yes you can," Brian replied. "I've served that up just for you, because you've been such a good boy." He put a small bowl of ice cream with strawberry topping on Kieran's placemat. Kieran gasped, ran to it and started eating.

"Have you eaten?" Brian asked Niamh.

"No."

"Well, there's half a baked river trout in the oven, and some mashed potatoes."

"So you _can_ cook, Dad?"

"When I put my mind to it. Kieran's just said he didn't like it, though. It's not very good."

"I'm sure it'll be lovely, Dad, thanks." Niamh went to the oven, and Brian followed her.

"So how's your day been?" he asked.

"Umm, pretty good. Yours?"

"Yup, can't complain."

There was silence for a while as Niamh put her food on her plate.

"Sorry I didn't wait for you to eat," Brian said. "I didn't know when you'd be back."

"That's fine, Kieran needs to eat early."

"Yeah, I know, but I don't."

"That's fine, Dad."

There was silence again. Brian watched her, trying to figure out what to say. Niamh looked away, hoping he wouldn't ask.

As Niamh put her plate in the microwave, Brian finally came out with, "So…"

"So what?" The reply was curt, snappy.

Brian sighed. "You don't have to be stand-offish with me, Niamh. I'm not judging you."

"Not judging me?"

"No."

"Really?"

"Well…I've told you what I think you should have done and you haven't done it, so I have to assume you have a pretty good reason not to."

"I don't want to talk about it, Dad." Niamh snatched her plate out of the microwave and rushed to sit next to Kieran.

Brian sat down opposite her, putting his hand on hers. "Niamh, I'm not judging you," he said. "I just want you to be happy."

...

"Do you really live with a gaggle of geese, Orla?" Liam was saying.

"What of it?"

Liam laughed.

"What? I can set them on my enemies any time I like, it's very handy."

Liam's smile fell.

"Is Peter back yet, Orla?" said Aiden, stepping into the bar.

"No. He'll be studying until Judgement Day, he's such a bloody swat."

"Any more dinner orders, Orla?" said Assumpta, coming out of the cellar.

"No, not at the moment - I'll get back to cleaning the pantry," Orla replied, disappearing into the kitchen.

"What can I get you, Father?" said Assumpta, glancing at the priest, who appeared rooted to the spot, looking at the door his sister had disappeared through. His reply was slow coming.

"Do you want a drink?" Assumpta pressed.

"Ah, yes, yes…A pint of stout, please," said Aiden breathlessly, sitting down beside Brendan.

"You look like you've just been sprung doing something naughty," smirked Brendan.

"Me? No, no, what do you take me for, Brendan?" Aiden smiled awkwardly.

"Spit it out, then."

"Spit what out?"

"Whatever it is!"

Peter walked in carrying a small pile of books, exchanged greetings with everyone and disappeared into the kitchen. Father Aiden watched after him, then looked at Assumpta, then at his pint. He didn't hear Brendan's soft chuckle.

"How did you go?" said Assumpta, following Peter into the kitchen.

"Not bad," he said, kissing her. "I did all my reading and the weekly questions, and I chose my essay topic."

"Well done!"

Behind her, Peter realised that Father Aiden was watching them. The priest quickly looked away when Peter looked at him.

Peter smiled. "Sorry, Father," he said, stepping back into the bar. "You wanted to speak to me?"

...

"Here you are, dear, a lovely piece of poached fish and vegetables," said Imelda, placing a plate in front of Ambrose. "Very good for you, that."

"Could I have some salt and pepper, please, Mammy?" Ambrose asked, wearing the same crestfallen expression he had done for nearly a week now.

"That's not so good for you," said Imelda, "but here you are." She brought her own plate and the salt and pepper over and sat across from him. "So how was today?"

"Nice. Except for the end."

"The end?"

"When Kieran had to go back to Niamh."

"Well, I was thinking, why don't we ask if we can have him for the weekend? You're not working, after all."

...

"What can I do for you, Aiden?" said Peter, settling himself into one of the armchairs at the far end of the bar.

Father Aiden sat down in the other armchair and placed his pint of stout on the coffee table. "Well, err…I suppose I thought we should swap notes. Father Mac and I – along with many other people – are trying to do what we can to save Ambrose and Niamh's marriage, but, well, we don't seem to be getting very far, and it occurred to me that out of everybody, the one who knows them best is you."

Peter nodded. "I'm right in the thick of it, you could say."

"Yes. I feel…quite an outsider, to be honest. Niamh won't talk to me, and Ambrose – well, he seems to be completely powerless to help the situation; he listens but won't say much, and Sean…well, Sean pretends to listen, but he's not a Catholic, is he, he'll only give us priests lip service at best. Apparently he was quite short with Father Mac yesterday."

Peter nodded, taking a sip of his beer. "Yep. It's a pretty tricky situation."

"Well, what do you think, what have you been doing? Do you mind if I pick your brains, as it were?"

"Go ahead - I dunno if you'll be able to pick much out of them, though. I don't know Sean at all, and Niamh has been quite unwilling to say much to me throughout the whole saga, but from what I've seen and heard, it really does seem…that Niamh is love with Sean. And in the face of that, I don't know what we can do, if anything at all – I mean, in my experience of love, there isn't a single thing you can do to stop it."

"Ah."

"The only one of the three main actors in this drama that I've had much to do with at all is Ambrose. And like you said, he's powerless. So I'm sorry to disappoint you, Father – believe me, I was very disappointed myself when I realised that there wasn't anything I could do."

"Father Mac seems to think you can do something."

Peter smiled. "Really? I never knew he had such faith in me! Did he send you to speak to me?"

"Oh, I – I would have come anyway, I wanted to…discuss it with you. I feel quite out of my depth, to be honest."

"So do I, mate. It's a rude awakening, I tell you."

"So you…You don't think there's _anything_ we can do?"

"Well, it was never up to us, was it? It's all up to Niamh. All she can do is think about it, ponder it well within herself, listen to the advice of others, and decide on what she thinks is the best thing to do for herself and the people she cares about. She's done all that and this is the course of action she's taken."

...

"So what about this Sean, then?" said Brian, handing his daughter a glass of whiskey.

She looked at him in surprise.

"What's he like? I presume there must be something special about him."

"Well, he… He takes me as I am, makes me feel at ease. He doesn't judge me or ask me to do anything. He's funny, smart…"

"Is he…a good man?"

"Yes."


	18. Chapter 18

Friday morning dawned with mist in the air. On the road above Ballyk, a lone figure stood looking out across the rolling hills, green and just a little blurry. Her breath hung in the air, and she pulled her jacket close to her chest.

A red pick-up van pulled up beside her, the headlights glowing through the mist. She got in, and the vehicle drove away.

...

As the sun rose higher, the mist cleared and the day became warm. Father Aiden went into his garden, intending to do some weeding, but before he could begin, the phone rang.

The priest went back into the house and lifted the receiver. "Hello?"

"Father O'Connell."

"Yes, Father! How are you?"

"How am I? Well let me see. After instructing my curate to do everything in his power to clear my way to save the Egans' marriage, I have awoken this morning to find that actually he has done quite the opposite."

"What?"

"What have you done, exactly, Father?"

"What have I done? Well, I – I spoke to Peter, _and_ to Assumpta! And Kathleen too, and-"

"And have you got me un-barred?"

"Err…I asked, but -"

"And have you convinced Peter Clifford to _do_ something?"

"Well, no - he seems to have quite given up, actually…"

"And knowing this, having disregarded my orders in this way, you will not, then, be surprised to learn that Niamh Egan was seen this morning meeting Sean Dillon on the Dublin Road, and leaving town with him?"

Father Aiden swallowed.

"Did you hear that, Father? It must not surprise you, after you have done so little."

"Well… I – I don't know what to do, Father! What can we do – it's very distressing to be so…powerless, but -"

"It is that defeatist attitude that has led to this, Father O'Connell!"

"Well, you…you can't possibly think that this is my fault, Father?"

"Yes I do! All you have done throughout this entire ordeal is repeatedly give up, over and over again! Is that what you took your vows for, Father? To give up, and give up, and give up again?"

...

Brian stood at the kitchen bench, a handwritten note in his hand. He stared at it, reading it over and over.

The phone rang, and Brian answered it.

"Do you know where they've gone?" said the smooth voice on the other end.

"No."

"Any ideas?"

"Well what are you going to do about it, even if you did know! Drag her home again?"

Father Mac chuckled. "_You_ could do that, Brian."

"Don't be ridiculous. And stop hassling me about it – there's nothing any of us can do anymore, OK, that's it." Brian hung up the receiver with a clatter and stormed into the kitchen, where he began preparing Kieran's breakfast with force.

...

Niamh stepped up to the door of the lonely beach house and put the key in the latch. After a moment of jiggling, the door clicked open.

"It's not haunted, is it?" said Sean, stepping into the wide entrance hall.

"It is not!"

"Look! There's a ghost there!" he pointed at a tall object that was shrouded in a white sheet.

Rolling her eyes, Niamh stepped up to it and pulled back the sheet to reveal a full-length mirror.

"Ah! Is that where you straighten up your bathing suit before you go out to the beach? Or where you check for sunburn on your way back?"

"Something like that." Niamh strolled into the lounge room, which was filled with shrouded armchairs, and began opening the French windows at the far end.

"This is quite impressive. How long has your dad had this place?"

"Since I was about seven."

"Right. So you used to come here for family holidays?"

"From time to time. He also rents it out to holiday makers."

"Really? How did you know there wouldn't be any here now?"

"Because I'm a business partner. I have access to all the files."

"Ah."

"And no, I won't show them to you."

"I wouldn't ask you to!"

"Good."

They walked in opposite directions about the room for a while, each feeling nervous and wondering what would happen next. Niamh kept glancing at the bags in the hall and wondering how long they could leave them there.

"How many bedrooms?" Sean finally asked.

"Three."

"Ah."

"All with ensuite bathrooms."

Sean's eyebrows rose. "Impressive."

"This is my father we're talking about. He wanted something he could hire out for top dollar."

"Does his house have that?"

"No. He doesn't hire out his house."

Sean began to walk towards the bags. "I bet it does have multiple bathrooms, though."

"Yes, but only one of them is ensuite."

They arrived at the bags. Sean hesitantly picked them up. "So…these are going…?"

"Upstairs."

...

Father Mac opened the door of Fitzgerald's and walked right inside.

Assumpta rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "Do you mind?"

"Yes I do. I will not stand for this anymore, Assumpta."

"OK, fine, come in, welcome!"

"You are entitled to do whatever you wish. You are entitled to think whatever you wish, and I've never argued with you or tried to restrict you in any way, but when you try to force your views onto someone else – that, I will not stand for."

Assumpta raised her eyebrows. "What are you on about?"

Peter appeared in the kitchen doorway, a frown on his face. Father Mac ignored him, his face going red, his shoulders hunched, his brow crossed. "Niamh Egan was a good woman," he hissed.

"She still is!"

"She was a good wife and mother; her child was being raised in a good Christian family."

"Oh, grow up, Father - you're like a little kid who didn't get his way!"

"Where are they?"

"Who?"

"Don't tell me it wasn't your idea."

"What wasn't my idea – none of this was my idea, Father; just because previously I was the only one who had the guts to stand up to you and your bullying ways -"

"This isn't about me! This is about a good young woman who has been forced into the path of darkness by -"

"That's enough, Father." Peter stepped forward, and Father Mac looked at him with an expression Peter knew all too well.

"Peter Clifford," the priest spat. "I expected better from you as well."

"This doesn't look very good for you, Father, chucking a hissy fit in the middle of a public bar!" said Assumpta. "You're only proving what I've been saying about you all along, that you're an out of touch, kniving, chauvinistic old cretin who thinks about nothing but his offering box and spends his days trying to control people like -"

"Niamh Egan -"

"That's Niamh Quigley now, actually."

"You domineering harlot! Do you -"

"THAT'S ENOUGH, FATHER!" bellowed Peter. "You're barred, get out right now!" He strode around the bar and manhandled the priest to the door.

"Oh, and this is one you prepared earlier!" said Father Mac to Assumpta. "The transformation is complete, Peter Clifford, from church to pub, from heaven to earthly sod, from the blessed Virgin to _Assumpta_."

"From Father to husband, that's all!" yelled Peter, pushing the old priest roughly onto the street and resisting the urge to punch him.

"You never used to treat me like that. Where's your respect?" the priest spat.

"You have crossed a line, Father! If you're going to go around hurling ridiculous accusations then I'm not going to respect you, no!"

"Ridiculous?"

"Yes! Assumpta has done nothing wrong – what, you think she wanted her friend to go through all this pain? Why would she want that – it happened of its own accord, and what happens now is not Assumpta's decision, it's not my decision, it's not your decision – it is _Niamh's_ decision!"

"I have never met with such insolence -"

"It's not even any of your business!"

All of a sudden, the priest's volume fell, and his face calmed. He stepped towards Peter, he looked him in the eye, and said, "Do you even know?"

"Know what?"

"Know that Niamh has left town with Sean Dillon, leaving her son and husband behind?"

Peter's expression faltered only for a second. "What Niamh does is none of our business, Father. We've all told her what we think she should do, and she's doing what she thinks she should do, but she came to that decision on her own, and you insult her if you think she could be so easily led by somebody else."

"I bet you didn't think _you_ could be so easily led."

"I am not being led anywhere by anyone! For your information, if I was still a priest right now, I would be doing exactly the same thing!"

"What makes you think she only started leading you after she convinced you to leave the priesthood?"

Peter shook his head, his fists clenched. "That one was _my_ decision, Father." He stepped forward, looking down at the priest, and pointing his finger in his face. "You've crossed a line. You're out of touch. Your refusal to believe what's right in front of you sickens me, but that's up to you, you can think whatever you like, but if you ever insult Assumpta again, you'll have me to deal with."

"Ooh, how terrifying!"

"You're barred, get out of here." Peter turned and strode back into the bar, letting the door slam in the priest's face.


	19. Chapter 19

Sean carried the bags into the room Niamh had led him to. It was quite large, and one wall seemed to be almost all window. Niamh walked over to it and opened the curtains, to reveal a beach panorama and a private balcony.

"Wow," said Sean.

"The only reason this place didn't get sold when Dad nearly went under a couple of years ago was that there were tenants in it at the time. I'm quite grateful to them now!" said Niamh, letting Sean take her into his arms.

"So am I," said Sean, leaning in to kiss her.

...

"I don't believe it," said Kathleen, fairly running down her steps to gingerly pat Father Mac on the shoulder. "That one was trouble from the moment he set foot in this town! No respect!"

"Yes." Father Mac stepped towards his car.

"Would you like a cup of tea?"

"No thankyou, Kathleen."

...

Peter leant against the pub door, quite exhilarated, but a little terrified about what he'd just done.

"Hear hear, Peter!" called Brendan, the only occupant of the bar.

"Thanks," said Assumpta.

"Hang on, I have a bargaining chip, maybe I should've…" Peter looked back at the door.

"Just forget about him, he's not worth wasting your breath on." Assumpta stepped back behind the bar.

"What bargaining chip?" asked Brendan.

"No, nothing," sighed Peter. "Better not overdo it in the first innings."

"I think he's the one who's overdoing it," said Assumpta.

...

"Brian! How are you? And Kieran!" Imelda swept the little boy into her arms and began planting kisses on him.

Brian leant against the doorframe. "Would you like to have him for a few days?" he asked.

"Oh, we'd love that!" grinned Imelda. "Niamh doesn't mind?"

"Ah, she's had to go away for a few days. A business thing she's agreed to do for me."

Ambrose came through the bedroom door, attempting to flatten his hair with his hand. Kieran yelled, "Daddy!" and Imelda transferred him to Ambrose's arms.

"How are ya, Ambrose?" asked Brian.

"OK. What business thing?"

"Well if it pays off, I'll be able to tell you!"

...

Orla and Aiden sat in Orla's garden, she on a rickety old chair, he on the ground. A plate of biscuits sat between them. Aiden picked one up and dunked it in his tea.

"Do you know what's going on, Orla?" he asked.

"What's going on? Well I know that this house is pretty shite, and I'm still not sure about my job."

"What? You haven't been fired, have you?"

"No no, I worked last night, it's just that everything's so up in the air with Niamh and Assumpta and Peter – argh! I just liked it better the way it used to be, that's all."

"And what is happening with Niamh and Assumpta and Peter?"

"I dunno, occasionally people come in with various gossip and Assumpta yells at them, but that's all the information I get – anyway, what are you asking me for, the curate's not supposed to gossip, is he?"

"No. The curate's supposed to solve the problem! Only he…doesn't really feel able to."

"Well you're not God. It's not your fault - Niamh was unhappy for a long time before all this happened."

"Was she?"

"Yeah. Nobody noticed, poor woman."

...

"Afternoon, all," said Siobhan, stepping into the bar with Aisling on her hip and a rather large amount of toddler-related paraphernalia dangling from her other hand.

"Hi, Siobhan," said Assumpta fairly glumly.

"Hello, Daddy," said Siobhan, arriving at Brendan's side and handing Aisling to him.

Brendan seemed quite excited by this and began cooing over the child, and Peter joined him.

"What can I get you?" Assumpta asked Siobhan.

"Oh no, I won't stay," said Siobhan, unloading all her stuff onto the bar beside Brendan. "I'm just dropping her off."

Brendan stopped cooing instantly and turned his head. "What?"

"I've just had a call, I've got to go."

"I'm on my lunch break, Siobhan!"

"Good! Now you've got company!"

"No, it's nearly over, I have to go back to the school!"

"Well I'm sure you'll sort something out. See you later." Siobhan turned on her heel and walked out, leaving Brendan staring after her with an incredulous expression on his face.

Assumpta chuckled. "You didn't see that coming, Brendan?"

His mouth still hanging open, Brendan turned to Peter, a pleading expression on his face.

"Alright, we'll look after her!" said Peter.

"Thankyou!" Brendan sighed.

The door opened and Brian entered. "Whiskey, please, Assumpta," he said distractedly.

Conversation ceased abruptly. Assumpta quietly poured Brian's drink, eyeing him warily.

"Do you know where she is, then?" Brian asked. He spoke softly, not meeting Assumpta's eyes.

She didn't reply.

"I dunno why I want to know, really. It's not as if I'm gonna rush out there and stop them. I just like knowing where she is, that's all."

"Well it's no use asking me," said Assumpta. "I did ask her, but she said it was best I didn't know."

"You knew she was going?" asked Peter.

"Yes. And I know she's coming back."

"Oh yeah, yeah, I know that," said Brian.

No-one spoke for a few moments as Brian sipped his whiskey and Aisling fell asleep on her father's shoulder.

"Father Mac's not happy," said Brian. "He seems to want me to force her out of it, but why would I do that, why would I force her to do anything? I'm kind of glad he can't get at me in here, to be honest."

"Well, he's double barred now, Brian," said Brendan. "Peter's barred him _and_ Assumpta's barred him!"

Brian looked between the two publicans, interested, but not bothered enough to ask. "Anyway," he said, "I just want her to be happy." He looked at Assumpta. "Do you think she'll be happy?"

"Yeah. A lot more than she was before, anyway. I told Sean to…Well, I told him I'd break his arm if he hurt her, so…"

"Nice one!" grinned Brendan. "That's what I told you, didn't I, Peter?"

"I'll be sure to tell him that myself." Brian drained his glass and picked up his hat. "Farewell then. See you next time I want to hide from Father Mac."

The three at the bar seemed too stunned to return this greeting, so Brian left the bar in silence.

"Doesn't he have Father Mac in his pocket?" asked Brendan.

"That's what I thought," said Assumpta. "I'm sure he could withdraw funding if he wanted to."

"Makes you think. What would it take for that to happen?"

"Well here's to it, whatever it is!"

...

"Will you move in with me?"

"That's the third time you've said that!" Niamh laughed and rolled over, snuggling into Sean's shoulder.

"Will you marry me?"

"That'd be nice. Well, both of those things would be nice."

"But?"

"But only one of them is possible at this point."

Sean's eyes lit up. "So you will move in with me?"

"I'd like to."

"But?"

"No buts. Let's do it."

Sean grinned. "Seriously?"

"Seriously."

...

Brian got out of his car and walked towards his front door, his head buried in a pile of papers he'd just received from a business contact. He didn't see the priest until he was right on top of him.

"Hello, Brian."

"Father Mac! Hello!" Brian looked left and right, trying to think of an excuse not to let him in.

"May I come in?"

"Ah…sure! Sure." Brian unlocked the door and the two men went inside. Brian made a beeline for the whiskey. "Have you been up to the golf club recently?"

"No, not recently. I was thinking of going next week."

"Oh, good!"

"Would you like to come with me?"

"Maybe." Brian handed Father Mac a glass. "Depends on work."

"Ah. Work, yes. Cheers."

"Cheers."

...

"Could you take this over to Ambrose?" said Assumpta, handing Peter a cake tin.

"To Ambrose?"

Assumpta shifted from foot to foot. "Yeah, well, I… I kind of feel sorry for him. Anyway, it's Kieran's favourite."

Peter opened the lid. A generously iced chocolate cake was inside it. "That's your favourite too, isn't it?"

"Yep, and Niamh's." Assumpta frowned. "Ooh, is that poor taste, to give that to Ambrose?"

"Well, as long as it doesn't say 'Niamh' on it."

"He likes chocolate cake, right? Everybody likes chocolate cake."

"Especially Kieran."

"Yeah, well, I want to make him happy too."

...

"So what do you propose to do, Brian?"

"What do I propose to do? I propose to support my daughter. That's all I want to do – that's all I can do."

"Do you propose to support her being denied the sacraments for the rest of her life?"

"Well, I was hoping you could swing us an annulment."

"She's not eligible, Brian."

"Anyone is eligible with the right legal arguments."

"Anyway, it'll be four years before she even qualifies for a divorce!"

"I know, so this all way in the future, we don't need to worry about it yet."

"What's she going to do in the mean time?"

"I don't know."

"Would you support her living in sin?"

Brian looked uncomfortable. "I don't like that, as you know – I don't like divorce either. But she's a grown woman. I don't know why you expect me to be able to change any of it – why would she listen to me?"

"She won't if you give up."

...

"Oh, Peter, dear, come in – excuse me, I have to rush back to the kitchen, I've got some fish in the frying pan!"

Imelda bolted back down the stairs and Peter followed her.

"Would you like to stay for dinner, dear? That'd be lovely, I'll just put another piece in - we've got fish coming out of our ears here, Kieran says he's quite sick of it already but I don't believe in waste."

"Well, actually I just came over to give you this." Peter held out the cake tin and opened it.

Imelda leaned over to have a look. "Oh!"

"From Assumpta. For Ambrose and Kieran and yourself."

"Oh, tell her thankyou! That looks simply delicious! Ambrose, look, there's – did she make it?"

"Yeah, I think so."

Ambrose and Kieran came in, Kieran yelling excitedly about the cake.

"You can have some if you eat all your fish, now, Kieran," said Imelda. "This is nearly ready now – oh, do stay for tea, Peter, I'll cook you some fish now – oh, why don't you get Assumpta over as well?"

"She'll be running the bar, Mammy," said Ambrose.

"Why don't you ring and ask her? You can use the phone, dear – tell her if she's busy that's OK, but ask her if it's OK for you to stay, we'd really love you to."

"Is that OK with you, Ambrose?" asked Peter.

"Yes. Yes, stay, Peter."

"Stay, stay, stay!" yelled Kieran.

...

"You know your problem, Father?"

"What?"

"You don't know when to cut your losses."

"She'll be unable to marry in the Catholic Church, unable to make confessions, unable to receive the Eucharist, and every time she lays with that man, even if she does marry him in a civil ceremony, she'll be committing adultery!"

"Then you'll do everything in your power to swing us that annulment, won't you."

"She's not eligible!"

"You'll get an annulment for Assumpta Fitzgerald but not Niamh Quigley – why is that?"

"That wasn't me, Brian, that was the tribunal - I argued heavily in favour of it and they accepted because Assumpta _was_ eligible – I'd never seen a stronger case for annulment than that one, the Vatican had to grant it out of concern for the poor gorm she married, if nothing else!"

"And what about the poor gorm that Niamh married?"

"Niamh married Ambrose intending to spend her life with him – neither of them was in love with anyone else, neither was insane, neither had been intimidated in any way -"

"We'll worry about that in the future, Father."

"You should be worrying about it now, Brian! The marriage she's got isn't ruined yet, but it very soon will be, and then she'll have nothing, and if she still wants that Sean Dillon she'll have to either be excommunicated, or live in sin for the rest of her life!"

"Interesting that they don't excommunicate you for that."

"You won't get to heaven for it!"

Brian gritted his teeth. "I know, Father. Which is why I need you to help me out here. I am a substantial donor to the parish; now that donation can either get substantially larger, or it can whittle away to nothing – it's up to you."

"Brian, I'd love to help you but I can't, you can't get an annulment just because three years down the track you've decided you're sick of this man and you want to try another -"

"That's enough now, Father. I'd like you to leave, please."

...

Michael walked into Fitzgerald's after dinner to find almost nobody in there. Not even Brendan and Siobhan were there.

"Michael, hi!" said Assumpta, looking excited to have a customer.

"Hi, Assumpta, err…slow night?"

"Slow week. And Peter's gone off to dinner with the Egan family so I'm completely bored, do sit down."

"Ah…sure, OK. Actually I just wanted to ask Peter about something, but I'll have a drink too."

Assumpta's face fell. "Ah. So it's Peter you want, not me."

"Well, I'll have a drink and wait for him."

"What would you like?"

"Errr…orange juice, please."

...

Kieran's face was glowing as he watched his grandmother cut the cake. She and Peter were glowing too – the boy had been charming them all evening, and his excitement was infectious. But Ambrose couldn't feel it. He sat watching the three of them, trying to feel what they were feeling, but he just couldn't get there.

"Yeah yeah yeah!" yelled Kieran excitedly as Imelda placed a bowl of cake and ice cream in front of him.

"What do you say, Kieran?" she asked.

"Thankyou!"

"And thankyou to your uncle Peter, too?"

Quietly standing, Ambrose turned and walked through the open door.

"Thankyou, Unkoo Peter!" grinned Kieran.

"You're welcome! Anyway, it was Assumpta, not me."

"It's very nice of her," said Imelda, finishing filling the next bowl of cake and ice cream and placing it in front of Peter. "You know, I find her quite hard to read – a lot of people do, I think - perhaps it's her manner that people don't understand. But then when she does things like this, you can see how nice she is – and that's what counts, isn't it, what people do, not what they say."

"Have people been saying bad things about Assumpta?" Peter asked.

"Well, I can see that she and Kathleen at the shop are very different people. So different! So that's understandable, and – oh!" Placing the next bowl on Ambrose's placemat, she looked up to see that he was not there. "Ambrose?" she called. "Where have you gone?"

...

"You deserve a pint, so you do!" said Eamonn proudly as he opened the pub door and led his nephew inside. "Hello, Assumpta. Can I have a glass of diet cola, and whatever my young farmer here wants." He sat down on a bar stool, still grinning at Danny.

"Which is?" Assumpta raised an eyebrow at Danny.

"Ehrr…pint of stout, please," Danny replied.

"What's the occasion?" asked Michael.

"Young Danny here has just finished building the finest pig arks you ever saw!" said Eamonn proudly.

"Arks?" said Assumpta, raising her eyebrow again.

"Ehr, they're like little houses for pigs. Like dog kennels, but for pigs," Danny explained.

"In five years' time, we're going to have bred twenty seven and a half thousand pigs!" exclaimed Eamonn.

The door opened, and Peter poked his head in. He looked worried. "Have any of you seen Ambrose?" he asked.

There was a chorus of "no"s and a shaking of heads.

"OK, umm…Michael, Danny, would you mind helping me look for him? It's just I'm a bit worried, he just left home without saying a word – we didn't even notice he was gone until -"

"Why them?" asked Assumpta.

"What?"

"Why Michael and Danny?"

"Well, because Michael's a doctor and Danny's young and strong and…so are you, of course, but you're running a bar."

"Do you think he might need a doctor, Peter?" said Michael, coming to Peter's side.

"Well I dunno, maybe. You've seen the state of him."

"Do you know where he went?"

"No idea – we were having dinner and then he just up and left. His car's still here, so he must be on foot."

"Right, well he can't have got far, then," said Michael. "Danny, you go that way, up into the hills - try the grotto, maybe. I'll try the river. Peter, wherever else you think he might go – up the road in the other direction, maybe?"

"OK," said Danny, and the two of them headed off into the night.

"Assumpta, can you call some other people and get them to help? Brendan, Brian maybe?"

"Hang on a minute, when did he leave?"

"I dunno, about…half an hour ago?"

"_Half_ an hour! Well what are you worried about, then? He's probably just gone for a walk!"

"Yeah, but he didn't say he was going and it's cold and dark – his jacket's still on the hook, and -"

"He's a big boy, Peter!"

"He's not in a good frame of mind." Peter went to the phone and began dialling.

"When I'm not in a good frame of mind a walk in the dark is exactly what I need, and not with people hassling me!"

Peter was no longer listening. He spoke into the receiver. "Hello, Brendan?"


	20. Chapter 20

Ambrose was climbing through the thick woods on the other side of the river. He didn't hear Michael calling his name a few dozen yards below him. He climbed to the top of the hill, and then went down the other side. He didn't know where he was going. He wasn't even paying attention, his mind so full of confused thoughts and painful memories. They were going round and round in his head, beating at him all at once – Niamh yelling and slamming the door, the determination in her eyes as she told him she hadn't changed her mind, the look in Sean's eyes all those times he'd seen them together, Kieran saying, "Why don't you stay here too, Daddy?", Kieran and Imelda smiling at the cake, Niamh smiling as she danced with Sean, Sean smiling, Kieran smiling…

He walked on.

...

"I dunno, it's a feeling Peter has," Brendan was saying as he and Danny walked back down the hill past the Garda house. "Fair enough, I s'pose – have you seen the look of Ambrose lately? He's become this crumbling shell of a man – completely broken hearted, poor feller."

The door of the Garda house opened and Imelda stepped out. "Could you keep the noise down?" she said. "Kieran's sleeping."

"Oh yeah, sorry." Brendan stepped towards her.

"You haven't found him, then?" she asked.

"No. But lots of people are looking, and he can't have got far – we'll find him."

"He's not himself anymore." Imelda looked distractedly down the street, shivering. She leant back into the house, took Ambrose's jacket off the hook and gave it to Brendan. "When you find him, give him this."

...

"Thanks," said Peter, taking a map from Michael and spreading it out on one of Fitzgerald's' larger tables. "Right. Where have we covered so far?"

"I've cycled through all the laneways around O'Connors' farm and the fields near there, and the grotto," said Brendan

"Oh, I went there as well!" said Danny. "I went all through the fields and woods around there, then I went further out along the road until I met Emma, and then we went and checked the fields on the other side."

"I've been up and down the river in both directions," said Michael.

"I've driven just about everywhere you can drive," said Brian.

"The thing is," said Emma, "It's been nearly four hours now, and there's no sign of him. I mean, shouldn't we call Search and Rescue or something?"

"I tried," said Father Aiden. "They said, 'Notify your local gard' – I said, 'He's the one we're looking for!'"

"Yeah, I tried too," said Peter. "There's just a night operator on now – they said they can't do anything 'till the morning."

"I don't think there's much we can do 'till morning either," said Brian. "It's nearly midnight."

"Well let's try and plot out where we've been," said Peter, producing a pencil and leaning over the map.

Brian turned away from him, and sat down on a bar stool in front of Assumpta. "Whiskey, please," he said.

"Yeah, me too," said Brendan, sinking into the stool beside him.

"Well, when you do find Ambrose," said Assumpta, "Don't tell him I was serving you drinks at midnight, now, will you?"

"No, no," said Brian. "Don't worry, we'll all have to go to bed soon, I think – we'll be out of your hair."

"Yeah," said Liam. "There's not much point keeping going now – it's such slow progress in the dark, messing around with torches and that, and if one of us slipped and hurt ourselves, well, then there'd be two people missing, now, wouldn't there?"

"Good point," said Father Aiden.

"Come on, guys, we can't stop!" said Peter. "We haven't found him yet!"

"I know," said Orla, "but this late, this dark and this cold, there's not much chance of us finding him until morning, is there? We need light – without that we're just endangering ourselves."

"There's not much chance, but there is _some_ chance!" said Peter. "We have to try! It's freezing cold out there, and he doesn't have a jacket!"

"There's a reason Search and Rescuers stop at night, Peter," said Michael. "It's dangerous."

Peter looked around at everyone's faces. "Do you all want to stop?"

There was universal nodding.

"Right," said Peter. "Right, OK." He nodded. "That's fine, you all go and have a good rest. Will you come back in the morning? Michael, can you call Search and Rescue first thing?"

"Definitely."

"OK."

People began slowly filing out of the bar. Peter kept looking at the map, thinking hard. When only Brendan, Brian and Assumpta remained, he turned. "I'm going out again," he said.

"You are not," said Assumpta.

"Peter, don't be stupid," said Brendan.

"It's not stupid. I've worked it out. Where we haven't covered yet is the hills on the other side of the river – he must be there."

"That's all forest," said Brian.

"Yeah, I know," said Peter. "Maybe he got lost."

"You'll get lost too!" said Brendan.

"No, I'll stick to the paths."

"It's dangerous!" Brendan exclaimed. "What about your young wife here?"

"I'm going too," said Assumpta.

"What?" Brendan stared at her. So did Brian and Peter.

"I know those paths well, I've walked all over those hills," Assumpta continued.

"Can we agree on one thing?" said Brian, sighing. "No-one does this alone."

"Oh Brian, you can't be serious!" Brendan shook his head in disbelief.

Brian took his mobile phone out of his pocket and gave it to Peter. "Are you with me, Brendan?" he said.

"Oh, they get the phone and we don't, do they?"

"We'll stay in the car. I've got a car phone. There's a woodcutter's track that'll be big enough for the car – you two take the smaller tracks." Brian looked at Assumpta.

"OK," she replied.

...

Imelda sat at the kitchen table, staring blankly at the empty vase that sat at its edge. A cold cup of tea sat in front of her.

There was a soft knock at the door, and she went to answer it.

"Hi," said Brian. "Just wanted to give you a progress report."


	21. Chapter 21

It was the early hours of the morning. Sean lay sprawled on his back amidst the clean white sheets of the hireable beach house. His left arm was curled around Niamh, whose head was cushioned in the hollow below his shoulder, her arm across his naked chest. They breathed in and they breathed out, sleeping soundly.

Danny and Emma lay on the couch in the Dillon cottage, Emma snuggled into Danny's chest. They had been talking, but they'd nodded off to sleep pretty quickly. Their bodies were cramped at odd angles on the couch, but their faces were peaceful, slumbering happily.

Brian revved the engine loudly and the Range Rover lurched over a small boulder and continued up the woodcutter's track. Brendan had his head leaning out the window, calling Ambrose's name. Brian wound down his window and began doing the same.

Imelda sat at Kieran's bedside, waiting.

...

"Ambrose!" called Peter, shining his torch through the trees. "Ambrose!"

Assumpta looked up at the sky. "It's starting to get light."

"What time is it?" Peter shone the torch on his watch. "Whoah! 3:45!"

"Mmm." Assumpta pulled her jacket tighter around her body.

"Are you cold? I've got a blanket in my backpack."

"No, I'm OK, the walking is keeping me warm. Ambrose must be pretty bloody cold, though."

"Yeah. Ambrose!"

"Ambrose!"

...

At 5am, the phone in Peter's pocket began to ring, then stopped again. Peter pulled it out of his pocket and frowned at it.

"Probably a reception problem," said Assumpta. "Might be better at the top of the saddle there."

They stepped off the path and began climbing.

...

"Damn," said Brian, shaking the receiver of his car phone.

"I don't think that'll help," said Brendan.

"You're a bundle of laughs, aren't you?"

"Yeah." Brendan sighed, leaning back in his seat.

"Are you sure you couldn't see anything out there?"

"Yes, I walked all around calling his name. So did you."

"Yeah."

"Are you gonna turn the car around?"

Suddenly, the car phone began to ring. Brendan jumped. Brian picked up the receiver. "Hello?"

"Hi, can you hear me, Brian? You tried to call," said Peter.

"Yes. How are you doing, any luck?"

"Not yet."

"Same here. Listen, my petrol gauge is dangerously low – if I don't turn around now we'll be stuck here."

"Ah. OK."

"But it's nearly morning, so I'll give those Search and Rescuers a call as soon as I can."

"What? Brian, you're breaking up."

The phone went dead. Peter shook it and held it up to the sky, but the call wouldn't go through a second time. "Oh well," he said. "Got the message, anyway."

"What message?"

"They're running out of petrol. They're turning back."

Assumpta sighed. "And they haven't found him."

"No. He said something else, but I couldn't hear what it was. But it wasn't that." Peter yawned and looked around the forest. "Are you OK?"

Assumpta suddenly turned and walked a few paces down the other side of the mountain.

"Assumpta?"

"I see something…" She grabbed hold of a tree branch and leaned out, peering downwards.

"Ambrose!" called Peter again.

"Peter, come here! That's him!"

"That's him?"

"At least, it's a person - I can see…legs, I think."

"Is he not moving?"

"No."

"Ambrose!"

They began to rush down the hill.

...

The alarm went off right next to Michael's ear. Groaning loudly, he quickly turned it off and picked up the telephone receiver, opening his eyes only to look at the piece of paper beside it that said, "Search and Rescue". He blearily keyed in the number written beneath.

There was no answer.

He keyed in Fitzgerald's' number. Nobody answered.

Grunting exasperatedly, Michael fell back onto the pillow and closed his eyes.

...

Assumpta was at Ambrose's side first, falling to her knees and ripping of her jacket to wrap around him. "Ambrose?" she said softly. "Can you hear me?"

There was no response.

"Is he breathing?" asked Peter, arriving beside her.

Assumpta placed her hand in front of Ambrose's mouth. "Yes."

"Oh, thank God." He began madly pulling things out of his backpack – a blanket, a thermos, a bandage. "Is he hurt, do you think?"

"Can't tell."

"Ambrose? Ambrose, did you fall?"

"He feels really cold."

"The ground's wet and freezing. Let's try and get him into a sitting position, then we can wrap the blanket around him properly, and – is that your jacket?"

"Yeah."

"Now you'll be cold!"

"Not that bad!"

"Use my jacket instead!"

"No! I've already wrapped mine around him! Now are we going to lift him or aren't we?"

...

Brian walked slowly into his lounge room, rubbing his forehead. He grabbed the whiskey bottle and poured himself a glass.

He rang the Search and Rescue number. There was no answer.

Realising that his car keys were still in his hand, he walked over to hang them on their usual hook, and then turned in the direction of his bedroom. At the door, something made him stop, and he turned, his eyes suddenly alert, looking in the direction of the key hooks.

He strode back over to the phone, looked something up in his address book and dialled.

...

Peter slapped the phone exasperatedly. "There's still no bloody reception!"

"Take it to the top of the hill again!"

"OK." Peter was off at a scrambling run.

"Ambrose?" said Assumpta. "Come on, wake up. Your family needs you. And your friends." She tightened the blanket around his torso and pulled the hood of the jacket over his head. "Ambrose!" She shook him gently, and a soft grunt escaped his lips.

"Ambrose! Yes! Hello?"

The grunt came again, and Ambrose's eyes fluttered open and closed.

"Ambrose! Can you hear me?"


	22. Chapter 22

The phone rang on Sean's side of the bed. He lifted his bleary head and frowned in confusion. He picked up the receiver.

"Hello?"

"Sean, can I speak to my daughter, please?"

Sean's eyes bulged and he plunged the receiver under the pillow. "Niamh? Niamh!"

"Mmm?"

"It's your dad!"

Niamh opened her eyes halfway. "What?"

"It's your dad!" Sean pushed the receiver towards her.

Niamh frowned and picked it up. "Hello?"

"Hello, Niamh. Good morning," said Brian.

"How did you know we were here?"

"The key to the beach house is missing. I only noticed it just now."

"Ohhh." Niamh rolled onto her back. "Damn. I should have made a copy."

"That's neither here nor there. You need to come home."

"Why?"

"Because Ambrose has gone missing."

...

Peter came running back down the hill.

"Be careful! You'll fall too!" hissed Assumpta.

"I can't get any reception!"

Assumpta grunted. "Bloody technology." She rubbed Ambrose's arms, trying to warm him up. His eyes fluttered open again.

"Is he awake?" asked Peter.

"He's delirious. I asked him if he fell, and I think he said yes, but I don't know."

"We're gonna have to carry him!"

"We shouldn't move him until we know what injuries he has – it could make it worse. We shouldn't even have got him upright, really."

"I'll go for help, then."

"You will not, I know those paths way better than you."

"I know them. I've walked here too."

"Not as much as I have." Assumpta stood up. "Give me the phone, I'll ring Search and Rescue as soon as I get reception."

Peter handed her the phone, then ripped off his jacket and wrapped it around her.

"What are you doing?"

"You must be freezing!"

"Not as freezing as you'll be – I'll be moving, you won't!" She pushed the jacket back into his hands and set off back up the hill.

"Not so fast, be careful!"

"You just focus on reviving Ambrose, OK? I'll be back."

...

"Niamh, just stop and think for a second."

Niamh was charging around the room from left to right, back to front, collecting every piece of wayward clothing and underwear and stuffing it into her bag.

"Just think about it, you're not…"

Niamh stopped and looked at him. "Not what?"

"You're not with him anymore! Are you?"

"That doesn't mean I shouldn't be concerned about him! Dad said he was so distraught he just wandered off into the night!"

"That's not your fault!"

"Isn't it?"

"No! What he does is up to him, and he's got loads of friends there looking for him -"

"Ambrose doesn't have many friends."

"Neighbours, then! Come on, Niamh - what is it going to achieve, you going there?"

"I have to do something." She zipped up the bag and walked out of the bedroom and down the stairs.

Sean ran after her. "You're not his mother!"

"There's his mother too, she must be sick with worry."

"I know, but what can you do for her? You never got on with her anyway! Just stop and think, that's all I'm saying, stop and think about the situation you're in – the situation I've put you in, Niamh, and what it's really going to achieve you going back there now!"

"Are you coming? If you're not, I'm taking your car."

Sean sighed. "Of course I'm coming. If you're going, I want to help you."

"_Help_ me? You want to help me? Don't you think you've done enough, Sean Dillon?"

...

The scene in front of Ambrose slowly came into focus. Peter was kneeling in front of him, his back turned. Some smoke was drifting up above him, just a little bit, drifting and then fading.

He seemed to be leaning against a tree. Something hard was digging into his right thigh, and his ankle and his head were hurting. He shifted uncomfortably.

Peter turned around. "Ambrose! Are you awake, are you alright?"

"This is awake, is it?" Ambrose grunted.

Peter grinned and came to Ambrose's side. "How do you feel?"

"Cold. Sore."

"Did you fall down the hill?"

"I think so."

Behind Peter, the fire began to crackle into life. "Oh good!" he said. "It worked eventually!"

"Thanks."

"Can you move?"

"Ah, yeah." Placing his hands on the ground, Ambrose shifted his body forward. "My ankle hurts. I think I twisted it." He leaned over the fire, as close as he could possibly get.

Peter looked at the ankle. "Well I'm no doctor, but it certainly doesn't look too bad. Here." He poured some tea from the thermos, and handed it to Ambrose.

"Thanks." He took a sip. "So you saved my life again, then."

"No, it wasn't me, it was Assumpta who found you."

"I remember her being here at some point."

"She went for help about an hour ago."

Ambrose sipped his tea silently for a few minutes. "I'm quite thirsty, actually," he said.

Peter poured him another one. "It'll warm you up a bit too, I hope." He pulled a packet of muesli bars out of his bag.

"Niamh isn't on a business trip, is she?"


	23. Chapter 23

Finally coming to the edge of the forest, Assumpta vaulted over a stile into a field. She crossed it diagonally, heading for the road which she knew to be about a kilometre away. She waved the phone around again. Still no reception.

"You really did get yourself injured in the most out of the way place possible, Ambrose," she muttered.

...

Brendan, lying spreadeagled on top of his bed in yesterday's clothes, was also awoken by the ringing of a phone. He grunted and looked at his clock radio. It was 8am.

"Damn you, I've only been asleep for two hours!" he yelled into the telephone.

"What?" said Michael. "Why? What were you doing?"

"Looking for bloody Ambrose!"

"You kept looking?"

"Yeah! Peter and Assumpta are still out there, as far as I know."

"Well that explains why they're not answering their phone, then. I told Peter it's dangerous to search at night! Where did they go?"

"Peter reckoned that Ambrose must be somewhere in the woods on the other side of the river, so we went left up the woodcutter's track and they went right."

"Right. Well, I've finally got through to Search and Rescue, they said they'll try for a helicopter but don't hold your breath, and a walking team will be here in about three hours' time."

"Fat lot of use that is."

"I'll ring around everybody again – you go back to sleep, don't worry, you've done your bit. Who was with you?"

"Brian."

"OK, I'll let him sleep too."

"Peter has his mobile if you want to try it, but reception's pretty shoddy."

"OK, thanks Brendan."

The phone went dead. Brendan groaned and rolled onto his back. He lay there looking at the ceiling for a while, then grunted loudly and swung himself out of the bed. Rubbing his eyes, he headed for the bathroom.

...

"I got lost, but I didn't care. I wanted to get lost. I just wanted to keep walking forever. But I wasn't looking where I was going because it didn't matter. So I fell."

"From the top of the hill?"

"I don't remember. Then everything hurt so I stayed where I was, then I got very cold, and then I fell asleep."

"It was a bit more than sleep, Ambrose."

"I knew she wasn't on a business trip."

"Where else hurts?"

"Where is she?"

Peter sighed. "Nobody knows. She didn't tell anyone."

"Assumpta doesn't know?"

"No."

"I bet Sean knows."

...

"Just drop me near Dad's place. I'll get my car and go into town. You should probably make yourself scarce, to be honest."

"I won't be ashamed of this, Niamh."

"I will."

Sean stopped the car in silence, the pain and conflict visible on his face.

"Thanks," Niamh said as she got out and shut the door.

...

Assumpta was power-walking along the road. She was almost at the river, the bridge near where Liam and Donal had once erected Our Lady of Bonanza. Nearly there. She quickened her pace.

All of a sudden, the phone in her pocket started to ring. She couldn't answer it fast enough.

"Hello? Michael! Hello? Oh, shit!"

The phone had gone dead again. Assumpta screamed in frustration. "How does Brian manage to use this thing so bloody much?"

Suddenly, she heard a vehicle approaching. She jumped out into the middle of the road and began waving her arms desperately.

The vehicle stopped beside her. It was Tom, the builder who was renovating Sean Dillon's property.

"Thanks," said Assumpta, jumping in. "I need to get to Ballykissangel fast, Ambrose is stuck up in the woods up there and he's hurt and freezing, probably hypothermic."

"Ambrose? The gard?"

"Yeah."

"Right, so." Tom stepped on the accelerator.

...

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Danny's eyes flipped open to see Sean towering above him. Flinging Emma off him, he jumped up as fast as he could. "Sorry, Mr Dillon. We weren't doing anything!"

"Who gave you permission to stay here?"

"I did!" said Emma angrily.

"This is my house, Emma, not yours!"

"Oh, thanks a lot! What are you doing here, anyway, you're meant to be away!"

"Yes, exactly, you sneak him in while I'm not here – what are you playing at?"

"Dad, what's wrong with you - you can see we weren't doing anything, we were lying on the couch fully clothed!"

...

Brian found Niamh sitting in the lounge room in a bath robe. From the dryness of her hair, it seemed like it had been some time since she'd had her shower. She was staring out the window, fidgeting with her hands.

"You made it," said Brian, striding over to her. "Are you alright?"

"Have you heard anything?"

"No."

"Where's Kieran? Is he alright?"

"He's with Imelda."

"Oh, thank God."

Brian patted his daughter on the shoulder. "No need to jump out of your skin. Let's have some breakfast and then go and see what we can do."


	24. Chapter 24

Tom pulled up outside Fitzgerald's, where quite a large group of people was gathered, either sitting on the benches or standing around talking.

Michael saw the car first, and ran towards them. "Assumpta! Are you alright?"

"Everybody listen up!" said Assumpta, jumping onto the nearest bench. "We have found Ambrose! He's on the other side of that hill over there – it's pretty far away, and it's all forest and fields – the nearest road is an hour and a half's walk away. I think what we need is horses, along with blankets, medical supplies, food and drink – gather whatever you can, as fast as you can, OK?"

There was much murmuring among the crowd. Danny yelled, "I'll go and get Razor, can anyone give me a lift?" Siobhan volunteered, and the pair of them rushed off.

There were some shouts of "Is Ambrose alright?" and "How did you find him?", but Assumpta had already jumped down from the bench and made a beeline for Michael. "Doc, he was delirious when we found him, bloody freezing, lying on very cold ground, no jacket – no obvious injuries but I think they're there, the way his body was lying I think he fell."

"Is Peter with him?"

"Yeah, he's got tea and one blanket and a couple of other things, but not much."

"I'll go and get my horse now, I'll be five minutes."

Michael rushed off to his car. Assumpta unlocked the door of Fitzgerald's and rushed inside.

"Well, I think Assumpta's just set a new record for the most information conveyed in the shortest amount of time!" said Orla to Emma.

"Yeah. What do you think we can do?"

"Well you and I live a bit far away to be able to gather supplies in five minutes – let's go and tell Imelda the good news. She'll probably have supplies."

...

Niamh sat across from Brian, idly twirling a crust between her fingers. "I don't know why I came back, really. It's not as if there's anything I can do."

"You came back because it was the right thing to do. There's plenty of things we can do to help – get out there and search for him, look after the people who are searching for him, look after Imelda, Kieran… Come to think of it, do you still have a key to Fitzgerald's? Brendan was ringing around trying to find one because apparently all the potential rescuers are just milling around on the street there, they can't get in, and they'd like a base, for meetings and storing supplies and things. They'd probably like some food and drinks too - you could do that."

"Why can't they get in? Where's Assumpta?"

"She's out looking for him, has been all night."

Niamh's mouth fell open. "All night? Is she alright?"

"Don't know."

...

Michael climbed up onto Desert Storm, who was standing patiently in the middle of Ballykissangel's main street. Father Aiden passed him his doctor's bag, and then made to climb onto Razor behind Danny.

"Hang on!" said Assumpta. "What do you think you're doing?"

Aiden looked confused. "Climbing onto the horse…"

"We don't need a priest for absolutely every single occasion, you know!"

"Well…I thought I might be of use…"

"And how's Ambrose going to get back if you're hogging the saddle?"

"Oh."

"How's Peter going to get back, for that matter – we need another horse!"

"Here's one!" called Father Mac, walking proudly down the hill with a white mare. "I've just borrowed her from Mrs McGinty."

"Right, Father, if you can ride, you can take her," said Assumpta.

Father Aiden looked anxious. "Err…no. I can't."

"Who can ride?" Assumpta called to the crowd at large.

"I can!" said Donal.

Assumpta looked at him sceptically. "No way known – anybody else? Oh, come on, this is a country town, there must be somebody who can ride!"

"I'm really not good at it, Assumpta," said Siobhan. "I mean, I can try, but on forest terrain…"

"Where's Emma gone?" asked Danny.

Out of the corner of her eye, Assumpta saw Brian's Range Rover pull up beside Fitzgerald's. Doing a double take, she realised that Niamh was in the front seat. All eyes turned as she stepped out of the car. Niamh averted her gaze, the silence stifling her.

Assumpta ran over, giving her friend a hug. "Are you alright?"

"Are you?"

"Yeah! We found him, he's OK."

"Oh, thank God."

"Hey, Niamh," said Brendan. "You can ride!"

The relief on Niamh's face became confusion. "What?"

"They need a third rider."

Niamh looked around, her heart beating fast.

"Is there really no-one else? No competent riders for forest terrain and jumping a stile or two?" called Assumpta.

Donal looked terrified. "Oh. I can't do that!"

"OK." Assumpta turned to Niamh. "Don't worry, we'll put Ambrose on Razor," she whispered. "You can take Peter."

Her eyes wide, Niamh gingerly nodded.

"Yay!" Brendan began to clap, and a few others hesitantly joined him.

"Thanks, Niamh," said Michael.

Father Mac handed Niamh a helmet, and she climbed onto the horse. Orla handed her a backpack with two thermoses sticking out of it, and a blanket.

Assumpta climbed onto Desert Storm behind Michael. "OK, everybody behind me!" Michael called. "Are we good to go?"

"Wait!" Kathleen stepped out of her shop, a heavy-looking canvas bag in her hand. She walked over to Desert Storm. "Assumpta," she said. "Some food for Ambrose, and some brandy. And some rations for the rest of you, too."

Kathleen passed the bag up to Assumpta. "Is it OK?" she asked. "It's not too heavy?"

"It's fine - thankyou, Kathleen," Assumpta replied, and the horses began to move, their pace quickening fast as they cantered across the bridge. The townsfolk watched them go with some encouraging cheers and hoots.

"Since when can you ride a horse, Donal?" asked Liam.

"Since I was seven," Donal replied. "My cousin had a pony."

"A pony? Sure that's not a horse!"

"It is too! And then when I was thirteen, my da bought me a moped!"


	25. Chapter 25

Sean sat at his desk, chewing his nails anxiously. He wore the same look of melancholy angst that he might have been wearing if things had been different. His hand hovered over the phone, then he put it back on his lap. Finally, he jumped up, grabbed his keys off the desk and walked purposefully out the door.

...

"Come on, guys, obviously she cares – she's back, isn't she?" said Orla firmly as she placed drinks in front of Tom, Liam and Donal.

"Yeah," said Liam. "But where's she been?"

"She was on a business trip, Brian said." Orla collected the empty glasses and swept back to the bar.

"Did he? Did he say that?" Liam said to her retreating back.

...

Brian, Imelda and Kieran sat on one of the benches outside Fitzgerald's. Kieran was playing with his transformer, and Brian and Imelda were looking out at the bridge the horses had disappeared over.

"He'll be fine," Brian said.

"Yes. Thankyou." Imelda turned to smile at him.

"Well it wasn't me, was it? It was Assumpta and Peter!"

"I heard you were out looking all night too."

"Yes, but I had a car."

"Don't be modest, Brian."

"He's not too good emotionally, though, is he?"

"No."

"Is there anything I can do?"

Imelda sighed. "I think all it takes is time."

They were silent for a few minutes, looking out at the bridge. Kieran jumped off the bench and began crawling around the back of it, leading his transformer over every available surface of bench and windowsill.

"Is it true that Peter saved Ambrose's life last weekend too?" Imelda asked.

"Oh yeah. Yeah. Gosh, that was only one week ago."

"He seems to be…not really caring about anything any more."

"Not really caring if he lives or dies, it looks like."

"He never told me. I only found out because Superintendent Foley phoned yesterday to say he'd been recommended for a bravery medal."

"Really? For saving the tourists?"

"Yes. I didn't even know about it – I asked Superintendent Foley and then I asked Orla and Emma when they came round just now. They told me that if Peter hadn't been there to grab him, Ambrose would have fallen off the cliff."

"Sounds like he would have, yeah."

"Ambrose is a wonderful man, I'm very proud of him. But I rather wish that he'd stay safe, rather than getting a medal."

"Oh yeah. Yeah. Listen, Imelda, I'm going to go inside and get a drink. Would you like one?"

"Oh, no thankyou, Brian."

Brian disappeared inside the pub, and Imelda was left looking out at the bridge, her grandson jumping up onto the bench beside her making siren noises. She didn't even seem to notice. But she did hear the footsteps on the road nearby, or more to the point, she heard them slow and stop a few metres away from her.

Imelda turned and smiled at the man who stood watching her. "Hello," she said.

"Hello," said Sean. "It's…Mrs Egan, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"Have… Have they found him yet?"

"Yes." She smiled, but her eyes were still ringed with worry.

"Is he alright?"

"He will be."

Sean leant against the wall in relief. "Oh, thank God for that."

"Yes," said Imelda. "The Lord be praised for that. What's your name, dear? I don't think I've seen you before."

"Well, I haven't lived here for…that long. Well, no, I guess it is a while now. Not sure if I'll stay or not, though."

"Why not stay? Everybody is so lovely here – Brian and Brendan and Assumpta and Peter were out looking for my son all night, and in the morning, the number of people that were gathered here to help – oh, it was wonderful! And then Assumpta and Dr Ryan and Niamh and that young man Danny, they all went off to rescue him on horseback!" She chuckled. "And people say that interesting things never happen in the country."

"Oh, they sure do. I lived in London for twenty years, but in less than a tenth of that time here… Well, it's sure been the most _interesting_ time of my life, I have to say. Not necessarily good, but always interesting."

"Not good?"

"No. Not really." Sean sat down on the next bench over from Imelda's. He knew he probably shouldn't be speaking to her, but then there were a lot of things he shouldn't be doing. He was having a hard time finding anything he should be doing.

"You know," said Imelda, peering at him closely. "You have the look of a broken hearted man about you."

Sean's eyebrows rose. "How do you know that?"

"Oh, I've seen a few in my time. Apart from the obvious, one I remember particularly well is Peter – you know, back when he was a priest. Oh, he had broken heart written all over his face!"

"Really?"

Imelda leaned towards him. "But he didn't stay broken hearted, now, did he?"

The pub door opened and Brian came out, an almost full pint of stout in his hand. "Sean!" He frowned. "What are you doing here?"

Sean looked up guiltily. "Well, err, just…just wanting know what I can do to help."

"The best thing you can do to help is get out of here. Go and hide up at your farm and don't come back – are you stupid?"

Imelda was shocked by Brian's manner, and she looked like she wanted to say something against it, but she'd heard the name. She stared at the affable stranger. As he stood, he turned to look at her. Neither of them able to say anything, Sean merely nodded his head and left.

"Sorry about that, Imelda," said Brian, resuming his seat beside her.

"That's Sean Dillon, is it?"

"Yeah."

"Oh."

"He's a lot of things, but one thing he's not is tactful."

"He had the look of a broken hearted man about him."

Brian turned to look at her, his eyebrows somewhere near his hairline. "Broken hearted?"

"Yes."

...

"OK, hang on a sec, listen up, everybody!" called Assumpta, turning around in her saddle. "It's quite steep on the other side, so I think we should leave the horses at the top – don't let them get too close to the edge."

"OK," said Michael and Danny.

"Did you hear that, Niamh?"

"Yeah."

"I might just get down and look – I can't remember exactly where it was." Assumpta jumped down off the horse and called into the trees. "Hey Peter, can you hear me? Where are you?"

"Peter!" called Michael.

They heard a shout some distance away, and Assumpta ran towards it.

...

"Orla, can I have a plate of sandwiches and a pot of tea, please?" said Father Mac, stepping up to the bar. He looked at Father Aiden pointedly. "And?"

"Oh, err…" said Father Aiden.

"Perhaps you'd better get him to order it," said Orla to Father Mac.

"Him? He's about to make his own order."

"Well perhaps he should order for both of you and then you can pay _him_." Orla shot a meaningful look at the old priest. "I'm trying to cover my arse here, Father. Help me out, Aiden!"

"Oh!" said Aiden. "That's right – you're not meant to be in here, are you, Father?"

...

"Yes…Yes, I do….Could you come and do a valuation as soon as possible, please? Thanks…Tomorrow at 10? Yeah, that's fine…OK, thankyou, see you then."

Sean hung up the phone and screwed up his eyes, burying his head in his hands.

...

Michael was the first down the slope and kneeling at Ambrose's side, talking to him, checking him, bandaging his ankle and wrapping him in the blanket Niamh tentatively held out to him.

"Now, have you had anything to eat?" Michael asked.

"Yeah, Peter gave me a muesli bar."

"Good. Here's something that'll help you too." Michael held out half a bar of chocolate.

"Thanks," said Ambrose quietly, watching Niamh walk away.

"I'm serious, you need to get back your energy – that'll help," explained Michael.

Ambrose slowly opened the wrapper and bit into the chocolate.

"Kathleen's sent you a bottle of brandy, too, Ambrose," said Assumpta, crouching down beside him and winking.

"That can't hurt either – let's get some into you," said Michael, taking the bottle from Assumpta and pouring Ambrose a nip. "Would you like some painkillers? Aside from this, I mean!"

"No thanks, I'm OK. Mostly just…exhausted."

Assumpta left the group and went over to Niamh, who had slunk into a clearing several metres away. "How you doing?" she asked.

"OK."

"There's nothing more awkward than running into your ex, is there?"

"Ha."


	26. Chapter 26

"The Church has a moral responsibility to act in these situations," Father Mac was saying as he sipped a glass of whiskey. "We may not be successful, but we have to do something."

"Yes," said Eamonn. "You have to do something."

"Well that's a fair enough point of view," said Brendan, "But you have to consider the practicality of it – I mean, how appropriate is it for a priest, who has no personal experience of marriage whatsoever, to step in as a main actor in that situation?"

"You've got a point there," said Liam. "Sure that'd be like _me_ trying to give advice on marriage. Or you, Donal! Ha!" He began to laugh. "That'd be terrible!"

"Well, unfortunately," said Father Aiden, "All the Church has is priests. And we are well trained and experienced at putting ourselves in other people's shoes."

"I don't think Assumpta'll put herself in your shoes when she comes in here," said Brendan, and he and several others began to laugh.

"Are you taking bets, Father Mac?" asked Liam. "Cos I've got a fiver on her pulling you up by the ear!"

Father Mac sighed. "Liam, over the last twelve hours, I think we've all seen the importance of the bigger picture. The best thing the Church can teach anyone is forgiveness."

"So she's going to forgive you like Ambrose is going to forgive us for drinking at 10 o'clock in the morning?"

"Err…something like that, I hope," Father Mac concluded, taking another sip of his whiskey.

"She did very well this morning, didn't she," mused Kathleen, hitherto a quiet listener of the conversation.

Several eyebrows rose.

"And looking all night. I was pleasantly surprised."

The bar was silent and everyone stared at Kathleen.

"Well, I'd better go," she said, getting up. "I only came over to give you that delivery, Orla. See you later."

"Like hell she did," said Brendan as she walked away. "She only came over to find out what we were gossiping about!"

"Pleasantly surprised? That's rare praise from her," said Orla.

"They're back!" Eamonn called from the door. There was a cacophony of scraping stools as everyone jumped up and ran outside.

Razor, ridden by Danny with Ambrose leaning over the horse's neck in front of him, led the party back into town. Danny stopped the horse next to a waiting ambulance, whose paramedics immediately set about getting Ambrose down and onto a stretcher. Michael, on the next horse, jumped down as fast as he could and rushed over to them, leaving Assumpta, Peter and Niamh to be the ones who were mobbed by the entire population of Ballyk, patting them on the back, cheering, and asking questions ten to the dozen.

Ambrose lost sight of Niamh as she was swallowed by the crowd. Then he saw that fighting her way through the crowd was his mother, and, breaking free of her hand and running through the legs towards him, was a wide-eyed Kieran. Ambrose told the paramedics to wait, and held his hand out to the little boy, who looked quite frightened. A second later, the pair of them were almost bowled over by Imelda, who arrived at the side of the stretcher and started showering Ambrose with kisses. "Don't you dare do that ever, ever again!" she admonished.

"Mammy…"

"I thought I'd lost you – you've your family to think of, do you hear? Before you go charging off cliffs and into forests, remember that you've got your family to think of!"

"Yeah, speaking of which, would you look at Kieran? He's scared!"

As Imelda swept the crying boy into her arms, Ambrose saw Niamh pass behind her. Their eyes met for a moment, and then she disappeared inside the pub.

"If you keep saving the lives of our young officers, I might have to make you one!" said Superintendent Foley, shaking Peter's hand.

"Wh…no, no, I'm not – anyway, it was Assumpta, you should be shaking her hand, not mine. I would have walked right past him if it weren't for her – where's she gone, anyway?"

...

Assumpta had finally reached the pub, slipping inside on the heels of a large group of noisy well-wishers. "God, I think the entire population of Ballyk's out there!" she exclaimed.

"I know," said Orla. "I'm just trying to take advantage of it in here." She began pouring the new people drinks.

"Thanks!" Assumpta went straight to the kitchen. She found Niamh sitting on the couch inside, crying.

"Thought I might find you here," said Assumpta, sitting down beside her friend and taking her into her arms.

"That was…all my fault!"

"No it wasn't, don't be silly."

"I broke his heart, and he -"

"You can't be held responsible for what he does afterwards! You weren't even here!"

"He could have died while I was in bed with another man!"

"Well it was bad timing, I'll admit that. But Ambrose makes his own decisions, and this one he certainly made on his own. He walked right out without saying anything, when if he'd stayed he could have had cake – I mean, how stupid is that?"

Niamh giggled half-heartedly.

"You didn't tell him to do that, did you?"

"No!"

"No! So how is it your fault, then?"

...

"Well that was quite exciting, wasn't it?" said Danny to Emma.

"Yeah! You're a hero!"

Danny blushed. "Now now, don't get my ego up, it'll get away from me! Do you want a lift back?"

"On Razor? I'd love to!"

"Razor's the real hero."

...

Peter collapsed onto the only remaining bar stool, between Father Mac and Donal. Orla placed a pint of lager in front of him.

"Oh! Thankyou." He drank thirstily.

"How are you holding up?" asked Brendan, still with one eye on Father Mac, whom Peter didn't seem to have noticed.

"I think I'm gonna have to go and have a sleep!" Peter replied.

"I was thinking of doing that myself."

...

Emma arrived home to find that nothing was in the place she expected it to be. The book case in her father's study was bare and so was the mantelpiece, and on the desk there was nothing but the phone left. In the middle of the room, there was a small pile of boxes.

Looking around with a stunned expression on her face, Emma heard a dragging noise upstairs. Looking up the stairs, she saw her father pushing a large trunk from his room into the upstairs corridor, where there was another pile of boxes. "What the hell are you doing?" she cried.

"Leaving," Sean replied, disappearing back into his room.

"What?" Emma ran up the stairs after him, only to find him coming back out of the almost empty room again, now carrying two framed paintings, which he placed carefully beside the boxes.

"You can stay with Danny if you like, or come with me." He went back into the bedroom, opened the wardrobe and began piling clothes into a suitcase. "I'm waiting on a call from the estate agents in London to see how quickly they can get the tenants to vacate our house. Or you could go and live close to your college, like you were gonna do before."

"You're going back to London?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because it's all wrong. I'm all wrong. I should never have come back."

"What are you on about?"

...

Assumpta took the kettle off the stove and began to pour water into a teapot. Niamh was still sitting on the couch, looking at her hands. "I yelled at Sean," she said.

Assumpta turned around. "Yeah? Fair enough. It was a pretty emotion-charged situation."

"No, I mean…I think I was pretty horrible to him, actually. I said I'd always regret going away with him. Which isn't true, and…anyway, it was my idea to go. I think I was just lashing out at him cos he was there."

"What did he say?"

"Nothing. I got out of the car and he drove away."

"Ah."

"I'm really bad at this, aren't I – a functional relationship seems to be just beyond me. I can't manage it."

"Well, we could ask Peter how many times I've yelled at him," said Assumpta, handing Niamh a cup of tea. "But I think he's lost count."

...

"Are you going to tell me what's going on? Or do you expect me to guess, because funnily enough I am _not_ a mind reader!" Emma sat down on the bed and glared at her father.

He put down the lamp he was holding. "OK. OK, yeah." He sat down beside her.

"I would say that you've had a scrap with Niamh. I can read your mind enough to know that, but why you're being so…_ridiculous_ about it – well, you're going to have to enlighten me."

"Ridiculous?"

"Yes!"

"Emma, I have to go. Whether Niamh wants me or not, I have to go."

"Why?"

"Because…Because I'm expecting too much of her. I can't keep standing here in this house on the hill asking her to come to me and love me. I'm being completely unreasonable – she's got a husband and a son, and…"

"But I thought she didn't love Ambrose?"

"I don't know. I don't think she knows."

"Didn't you go away together, yesterday? You were really excited about it!"

"I was, yeah."

"So what happened?"

"It was great. Yesterday was…amazing. She's amazing. But then Ambrose went and took an impromptu walk in the forest, and…now I just don't know."

"What, you don't know if she loves you?"

"Yeah."

...

"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It's been…about a month since my last confession."

Niamh breathed heavily, trying to get up to the courage to say what she knew she had to.

"Niamh," said Father Aiden. "Whatever it is, I'm here to listen. Tell me."

"I…I have to confess to the sin of…adultery."

Father Aiden sighed sadly. "Why did this happen?"

Niamh struggled to retain control of her emotions. "It happened because…I fell in love with someone else. I was very unhappy with Ambrose – I…I told him that it was over and that I was leaving him, and I did. And then I went off with Sean…and Ambrose was so upset he nearly got himself frozen to death in a forest…while I was in bed with another man."

"So this…this sin you're confessing to. Is it a recent thing?"

"Yes, it happened yesterday, Father."

"It hadn't happened before then?"

"No."

"But before then, you had told Ambrose that you were leaving him, and you'd gone to stay at your father's."

"Yes."

"Did he not react in the way that you wanted him to?"

"Who, my father?"

"No, Ambrose. You were telling him…you were _showing_ him…that something is very wrong with your marriage. Do you want him to fix it?"

"No."

"Do _you_ want to fix your marriage?"

"No. It's gone already, the marriage is over. Because of me."


	27. Chapter 27

"You two should both get to bed. Stop making me yawn, Assumpta!" chided Brendan.

"Yeah, that's it, I've got to go," said Peter, getting up from his bar stool and walking slowly towards the stairs.

The door opened, and Emma walked in. She looked around, and her eyes settled on Assumpta. "Have you seen Niamh?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"Where is she? I'd like to talk to her."

"Sit down and wait, if you like. She should be back soon."

"Oh, OK, thanks." Emma sat down at the bar.

"What's your poison, Emma?" asked Brendan. "On me, providing it doesn't break any underage laws."

The door opened and Niamh walked in. "I'll take over from you, Assumpta," she said, walking behind the bar. "I think you deserve a rest."

"Umm…Emma would like a word with you first, I think."

Niamh looked around at Emma, who smiled awkwardly.

...

"Is Daddy going to be alright?" asked Kieran.

"Oh, yes," said Brian, placing a bowl of ice cream in front of the little boy. "Yes, Kieran, Daddy's going to be just fine. He got a bit cold, that's all, because he went out and he forgot his jacket!"

"He forgot?"

"Yes, he forgot his jacket! And then he fell over because it was dark and he twisted his ankle – he wasn't badly hurt, but because he'd twisted his ankle he couldn't walk, and that's why he got stuck out there."

"Oh."

"Do you understand, Kieran? He's fine. Completely fine."

"He looked brave on the horse."

"He looked brave on the horse! Yes he did, didn't he? All the people on the horses were very brave. Your mummy was on a horse too!"

"Mummy was on a horse?"

"Yeah!"

"I didn't see Mummy."

"No you didn't, did you, there were too many people!"

"Where is she now?"

"She just had to go and make sure that Daddy's alright. She came home early from her holiday just for that."

...

"What can I do for you, Emma?" said Niamh matter-of-factly, sitting down opposite the girl at one of Fitzgerald's' tables.

"Did you know my dad is leaving?"

"What?"

"He's packing the house up right now. He said the estate agent's coming tomorrow morning. He's going to sell the house."

"Why?"

"He thinks you don't love him."

Niamh looked at the girl, her mind reeling, but her gaze constant.

"Do you love him?"

Niamh remained silent.

"If you don't, you should stay away from him. But if you do, you should go up there now and talk to him. You don't want him to move away, do you?"

...

"Did you know Father Mac was here earlier, Assumpta?" goaded Brendan.

Orla's body tightened in dread and she glared at him, then glanced falteringly at Assumpta, who was collecting glasses from the tables and not paying much attention to the regulars. "What?" she asked.

"Father Mac was in here. Drinking. When you were out."

"Why am I not surprised?"

"Peter didn't even seem to notice him. He did a double take as he was leaving, but that was it."

"Peter was very tired."

"Did you notice him?"

"I wasn't looking."

"What?"

"Mmm. Turned a blind eye, you might say."

"Really?" said Siobhan. "So he's not barred anymore?" She looked around at Brendan and held out her hand. Brendan sullenly placed a five pound note in it.

"I didn't say that," said Assumpta. "But if he wants to be so childish as to refuse to follow the rules, then what am I to do about it?"

"Have you mellowed, Assumpta?" asked Brendan.

Assumpta looked around, an expression of sharp indignation on her face. Sharp, and possibly dangerous.

"No," said Brendan. "OK."

...

Niamh parked her car in front of Sean's house and got out. The door was open, but she couldn't see him anywhere. She slowly stepped up to the threshold and peeked inside. She could hear sounds coming from somewhere, scrabbling and scraping, and what sounded like the noise of paper scrunching.

"Hello?" she called.

The noise stopped abruptly, and Sean suddenly jumped up from below the kitchen bench tops. "Hi," he said.

"Hi," she replied, stepping into the room. There were two full boxes on the kitchen table, and another sitting on the floor by the sink, half full of pots and crockery wrapped in newspaper.

"Emma told me you were leaving town."

Sean winced. "Emma! I'm sorry. She…doesn't think!"

"Well it's a good job she did tell me, if you were planning on just slinking off and not telling me about it!"

Sean hung his head.

"First sniff of trouble and you run, is that it, is that what you're like?"

Sean stepped forward and looked into her eyes. "Niamh. I thought you were… I'll do whatever you want me to do. That's all I wanna do, just…anything for you. But I think that I shouldn't ask you to do what I want you to do. I'm expecting too much of you, I'm putting you in a very difficult position, and… You said you'd always feel ashamed about yesterday – well, I'll always feel the opposite, whatever the opposite of ashamed is, but I can't handle… I think either way I should leave, because – haha, I'm really quite stupid, aren't I, I've just spent nearly two years trying to re-establish myself here and trying to get people to like me, after they treated me so unfairly for so long. I finally achieved it – or at least, they liked me enough to help me remove a tree from my house, which was a pretty big job. Finally I was doing alright with them, and then I decided to break up the most popular family in the village!" Sean shook his head and collapsed into a chair at the kitchen table. "That's a horrible thing to do. I deserve whatever I get for that."

"Most popular?" said Niamh, sitting down opposite him.

"Yeah, I think so. Everybody loves the gard and the publican."

"I'm not the publican any more."

"Well, whatever. They all love you and…I love you and…I shouldn't be putting you through this. Plain and simple. So I'm going to go away, and if you miss me you can come and find me, but if you don't miss me, then…just forget about me."

Niamh breathed in and out, looking into his sad eyes, studying his face with concern. "I'll always feel the opposite of ashamed too," she said. "I feel guilty, yes, for what happened to Ambrose, but what I said to you…I was upset, I was just letting off steam. I'm sorry."

"You didn't mean it?"

"No."

Sean smiled.

"You do know me, don't you? I am prone to be unreasonable every once in a while. If you don't know how to deal with it, I suggest you ask Peter for tips."

"Peter?"

"Peter's very good at dealing with unreasonable women."

Sean laughed.

"So are you still going to leave, then?"

"That's up to you."

"Well…We might have to leave together, mightn't we?"

"Might we?"

"Not too far away because of Kieran, but…I do think that being away from all the judging and gossiping…and the look on Ambrose's face, and Imelda's…I think that would be best. It would allow me to find a way to be less unreasonable about things."

"It's up to you, Niamh. I'll do whatever you want."

"Don't _sell_ the place, though! We might wanna come back!"

...

"Are you alright to stand, love?"

"Yeah yeah, just pass me the crutches."

"Here you are."

Ambrose grabbed hold of the crutches and slowly swung himself onto his feet. His foot was bandaged, and he had iodine over a couple of scratches on his face, but otherwise, he looked healthy. Imelda's arm wavered under his as he steadied himself on the crutches. Ambrose began slowly hobbling towards the door of the ward.

"Are you sure you don't want to use the wheelchair?" said Imelda. "The nurse said you could have it as far as the front door, at least!"

"No no, I'm fine," Ambrose replied.

Imelda smiled at the woman waiting at the door. "Thankyou for coming to get us, Assumpta," she said. "I didn't think until afterwards – ambulances don't do return trips!"

"No, they don't."

"And he's hurt his foot – he can't drive!"

"My ankle, Mammy, not my foot."

"Your ankle, love. It was a very bad sprain, the doctor said – all three ligaments broken."

"Yeah, I did that once," said Assumpta. "It hurt quite a bit."

"Anyway, thankyou for coming, dear. I thought you'd be busy running the pub!"

"Well, I've dropped Orla in it!"

"And Peter's having a nap, is he? Poor dear. I'm surprised you don't want a nap too – out all night!"

The three continued moving slowly along the hospital corridor.

"Is this your jacket, Assumpta?" asked Ambrose.

"Yeah."

"You put it on me in the forest?"

"Yeah. Sorry, I should have grabbed you one of Peter's before I came up here – that one's a bit small for you!"

"It's warm, though. Does it make me look pretty?" He managed a smile.

"What, being a feminine jacket?"

"Yeah."

"It's not that feminine. It just looks like it's your jacket that's shrunk in the wash."

"Didn't I tell you, Ambrose, when you were a boy," said Imelda, "never to go out without something to keep you warm!"

"Yes you did, Mammy."

"I told you you'd catch a cold, but I never thought you'd get hypothermia!"

"Yes, well. It wasn't my smartest hour last night."

"No, it wasn't."

"Well, thanks, but I'd rather just forget about it because I feel rather an idiot, and I'm very sorry for causing all this trouble."

"No trouble, Ambrose," said Assumpta, yawning. "That's what we're here for."


End file.
